Two Worlds
by fphp
Summary: Ray and Neela are in separate worlds...will they ever come together? Contains major spoilers for the season finale and next season.
1. Chapter 1

2

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 1 of "Two Worlds." I told myself that "Airplanes & Hospitals" was going to be my last story, but lo and behold I couldn't stop myself from starting another one. This contains major spoilers for the season finale and next season, so if you don't know what's going to happen and don't want to know what's going to happen, don't read this. I should also tell you that I think the chapters in this story are going to be significantly shorter than in my previous stories. Alright, let me know what you think! _

_Disclaimer__: I don't own ER._

The deep reds and purples of the sunset sky never ceased to amaze Ray. He was sitting on his mother's porch, waiting for the bright yellow sun to disappear behind the horizon and for the moon to take its place as emperor of the sky. This had become a nightly ritual, a supposed temporary refuge from his own mind. He spent his days in a maze, disoriented and in a state of confusion. One minute he would pick up his guitar and play a few notes of a familiar song, and the next he would feel like throwing it against the wall. When he wheeled himself out onto that porch, it was with the hope that for just a few minutes, even moments, he could forget. He could forget all of the pain, all of the helplessness, all of the memories that haunted him day in and day out.

His mother had done all she could to make him feel like he was coming home, to a place where he had spent his childhood and carried fond memories. But she could see that this wasn't home for Ray; Baton Rouge may have been where he was born, but it was not where he was meant to be now. Ray was her son and she wanted him to stay, but as a mother she prayed for nothing but his happiness and that would only be achieved if he went back to Chicago. She had realized that a long time ago; she just didn't know when Ray would do the same.

The first few days had been the most difficult. Ray had never been more helpless in his life and it killed him to think of all of the things that he now couldn't do without someone by his side. He had fought it at first—he had tried to convince everyone that he was fine, that he didn't need any help and he didn't appreciate them treating him like he was a little kid. And then it hit him. After a few nasty falls, some rough bruises, and a fractured finger, Ray finally began to understand that this was permanent and there was nothing he could about it. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was stuck in this damn wheelchair and he couldn't do everything on his own.

A few weeks after he came to Baton Rouge some of his old high school friends stopped by to see him. He wished they hadn't. The look of pity in their eyes was enough to enrage Ray to the point where he almost kicked them out, but his mother diffused the situation by offering his friends something to eat, which they promptly and politely refused. They didn't come back.

Ray didn't want pity. He didn't want help. All he really wanted was to be alone.

As a doctor, Ray had seen so many amputees that he had lost count. Never had he asked any of them what it felt like to go through life feeling incompetent and incomplete; it was as if losing a part of your body meant losing a part of your soul. He had been a doctor, damn it! He was used to traumas and GSWs and a room full of patients waiting to be seen, running around for as long as 36 hours straight without any sleep. From the life he had made for himself, he now went to spending his days in a room in the corner of the house, doing nothing but letting his thoughts slowly eat him alive. And no matter how many times he told himself that he could continue his work he somehow felt that it wouldn't be the same. Maybe someday he would have enough strength left in him to go back to being what he once was, but that day was not today.

The sky had turned a darker shade of blue by the time Ray realized that the sun had set already. Staring into the night, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the middle of his chest as a distant memory was awakened. He had seen that shade of blue before. He had seen it on a slender and petit body, with dark, flowing hair and a smile that sent shudders down his spine. Just as quickly, the memory faded and Ray's eyes narrowed at the thought of her. He didn't know why his mind tortured his soul like this—he didn't want to think of her. He didn't want to be reminded of what they had come so close to becoming only to have it all come crashing down in a matter of moments. No, it was over. Ray didn't want to see her, he didn't want to hear from her, he didn't want to hear _of_ her. And he would keep telling himself that.

Ray abruptly turned away from the agonizingly dark blue sky and wheeled himself through the door and into the house.


	2. Chapter 2

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 2 of "Two Worlds." I appreciate any and all feedback, good and bad, so if you have absolutely anything to say, please say it! Alrighty, hope you enjoy it. I should REALLY be studying for Statistics..._

_Disclaimer__: No, I do not own ER._

"Neela, ER needs a consult," Dubenko said gently. He looked at her with concerned and watchful eyes, trying to make eye contact but failing to catch her gaze. This had not been the first time. For the past six months, Neela Rasgotra had failed to make eye contact with absolutely anyone.

"Okay," she said in an almost monotone voice as she rose from where she was seated finishing her charting. If Neela could hear herself speak, she would cease wondering why everyone was treating her as if she was some fragile porcelain doll. She didn't know what she sounded like to those around her because, most of the time, the only thing she could hear was a deafening roar in her ears. Even Crenshaw had noticed the change. Making a few snide comments, he had expected Neela to come back swinging with a sarcastic reply of her own, but was puzzled to find that all he got in return was a barely audible, "Yes, Dr. Crenshaw" and an immediate turn to do whatever he had asked her to do. After a few more episodes that ended in the same manner, he addressed her much in the same way Dubenko did. Neela didn't even notice.

Neela's parents had noticed the change in her tone when they spoke with her on the phone, and it worried them more and more everyday. At first they had thought it was a temporary change in mood; _maybe she just had a bad day_, they said. And then they called again and that same dry and lifeless tone made its way through the telephone wire and into their homes. Whey they had asked what was wrong, Neela's response was to automatically increase the pitch of her voice in an effort to sound cheerful as she said, "Nothing...I'm fine."

The first few days had been terrible. The image of Ray lying on that hospital bed flashed in her mind over and over again until she became physically sick. Pain, regret, and hopelessness all fused together to put her in a perpetual state of dazed desolation, the result of which was a near-death experience at an anti-war rally. Wandering around like a lost child, unable to silence the roaring in her head and to dim the images in her mind, she had been trampled in the chaos. And in the ensuing commotion, Neela had found that she didn't have the strength—physical or mental—to get up. She had no reason to get up.

A few weeks after she had been released from the hospital, Abby, Pratt, Morris, and Sam had come to visit her. She wished they hadn't. They were her friends and she was grateful that they cared about her, but just like everyone else at work, they looked at her as if she would break if they touched her, as if she had some incurable disease. After firmly repeating her assurance that she was fine, that she would be back to work in a few days, and that she was thankful that they stopped by, Neela calmly showed them the door.

Neela didn't want pity. She didn't want help. All she really wanted was to be alone.

As a medical student Neela had despised her psychiatric rotation, but that didn't mean she wasn't good at it. Her evaluations had been laudable and she was even told that she should look into psychiatry as a possible field of work. But all of the textbook definitions and classic cases had not prepared her to diagnose even herself. The word 'depression' never entered her mind because to Neela, what she was feeling could not even be expressed with words. The intense stabbing pains in her chest made her feel as if her heart was physically breaking into ever smaller pieces. She was slowly dying inside and she knew it.

Neela's life had become like a broken piece of china; every time she tried to patch it back together, it would break into even smaller fragments. She thought she was doing the right thing when she pushed Ray away after Michael's death. After all, it would have been a dishonor to his memory. And Tony only served to keep her from thinking about Ray at a time when she still felt that what she and Ray meant to each other was much more than what they _should_ mean to each other. By the time she finally realized that all of her excuses, all of her reasons, amounted to absolutely nothing, it was too late. Circumstances had changed everything. Countless nights she had lain awake cursing herself for her damned sense of timing.

But even then she had not given up hope. She had called. She had called his phone only to get the message that his number had been disconnected. She had called his mother's home only to hear her roughly say that Ray didn't want to talk to anyone, including her. Not once but continuously for the first three months, she had received the same indignant response. _Okay_, she had said, and turned to writing letters instead. Ray's mother had been reluctant to even give her the address, but after the third call and the flinching pain in her voice, she had given in. Neela knew that if he didn't want to talk to her, he probably didn't want to read her letters either. But she would try. And so every night, before spending another restless night tossing in her bed, she would sit down at the kitchen table and write to the one person that she felt could make her feel alive again. Maybe someday, with his help, she would find the strength to pick up the pieces of her life. Maybe someday, with her help, he would find the strength to pick up the pieces of his.

Walking toward the doors of the trauma room, Neela passes the doctor's lounge that she had once spent so much time in, sleeping, charting, recovering from difficult patients...and getting coffee. A particular episode involving honey suddenly comes to mind and Neela blushes. The locker that once held a disordered array of scrubs, stethoscopes, and guitar picks stares back at her through the door and she feels a stab in the middle of her chest—the third one that day. Turning her face away, she walks swiftly down the hall and slowly opens the trauma room doors.


	3. Chapter 3

_Notes__: Alright, I can't seem to stop myself. I posted Chapter 2 this morning, and lo and behold, here's Chapter 3! Thank you so much to those who have reviewed; as I've said before (and will continue to say), you rock. I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed reading this story so far. I realize it's a bit on the gloomy side, and I'm sorry about that—it just sort of came out that way. Please let me know what you think. I really really need to be studying for Statistics..._

_Disclaimer__: I don't own ER._

Ray could see his metallic red guitar out of the corner of his eye as if it was staring at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He was sitting by the window of his room, his hands on the wheels of the chair he was imprisoned in and his gaze resting on the coat of blended blue and green covering the little hummingbird right outside his walls. What he wouldn't give to switch places, if even for a moment. Ray had found it harder and harder to control his thoughts the past couple of days and he had no idea why. Maybe it was the slightly colder weather and the touch of wind on his face, a sensation that reminded him of a place he didn't know he had missed. Or maybe it was the all-too-familiar T-shirt he had found in the bottom of a drawer the other day; a T-shirt that had not been washed in two years because it still smelled calmingly sweet from having been secretly slept in. All Ray knew was, he couldn't get Chicago out of his head. He couldn't get his old apartment out of his head. And he sure as hell couldn't get _her_ out of his head.

His guitar was still staring at him. Ray slowly wheeled himself over to where it was sitting on its stand, and placed it gingerly on his lap as he moved back to where he had been seated by the window. He positioned it as best he could and took a deep breath; the last time he had tried to play anything, he had come very close to nearly running his guitar over with his wheelchair. As his fingers moved across the strings, Ray felt as if they were in a mind of their own—he hadn't thought of any song in particular to play, they just sort of traveled across the instrument in a state of freedom. But not more than a few notes into the song, Ray's heart began beating uncontrollably against his chest. The same thing had happened when he first wrote these notes...and when he first sang them...and when he first put them on a CD for a girl that had grown to love listening to his music just as much as he loved making it. It was her song.

Ray suddenly felt like he couldn't stop. The notes flowed out of his hands as if they were ribbons of deep red and midnight blue, his love and pain mixed together in music when they couldn't be expressed with words. It was somehow agonizing and relieving at the same time to hear this song after so long. And when it was time to string the last note, Ray found that the tiniest drop of a tear had begun slowly making its way down his cheek.

It was at this moment that his mother knocked on the door of his room. "Ray?" she called through the thin wood.

"Yeah, just a minute," he replied, hastily wiping his face and wheeling the guitar over to its stand. He made his way to the door and opened it to find his mother standing in front of him with a look of concerned determination on her face.

"You have a letter, Ray." She handed him the envelope with the beautifully slanted handwriting just as he looked up into her eyes. She wasn't quite sure what she saw in them—confusion? uncertainty? relief? So many of these letters had passed through her hands that she had lost count, and every time she handed one over to her son, he had taken it without so much as looking at her and placed it unopened in the bottom drawer of his bedside table. What had made this time different, she didn't know. But she had an inkling.

"Why don't you open it?" she said a little hesitantly, not wanting to overstep her boundaries but reluctant to stay silent after the look he had just given her. She had been cold to Neela on the phone on numerous occasions, angry and reluctant to believe that someone who had caused her son so much pain could possibly love him. But everyday when she walked to that mailbox, she knew that there would be another letter waiting for Ray. What it contained, she had no idea, but the most important thing she had realized over the course of the last six months was that no matter what had happened Neela loved Ray enough not to give up on him. And although Ray never said her name out loud, she knew that Neela was always on his mind, even if he didn't want her to be. She had seen the picture he had tried to hide—mostly from himself—by placing it in a box under his bed with a bunch of his old high school things as if to curb his temptation to look at it. And it worked, for the most part, but there were always those moments when she would inadvertently walk into the room and find him staring at the box sitting on top of his bed. She hated seeing Ray torture himself day in and day out.

Ray didn't answer. He looked down at his name on the front of the envelope and was instantly reminded of all the times Neela had written him post-it reminders—in that same beautiful handwriting—to clean the bathroom, or to take out the garbage. Once he had awoken to find a post-it on his forehead that read, '_Next time, tell me when you use all of the hot water before I freeze my ass off in the shower_!' He had never laughed so much in his life. Ray was surprised at the sudden smile that crept its way onto his face, and abruptly wiped it off. He had failed to fool his mother, however.

"Open it, Ray. You never know what you may find inside." And with that, she gently closed the door behind her, leaving Ray to stare fixedly at the unopened envelope in his hand.


	4. Chapter 4

_Notes__: Hi! Umm, so I've sort of become addicted to writing, it seems. Here's Chapter 4 of "Two Worlds" for those who are spoiled about the end of this season and the start of next season. Thank you so much to everyone who has read/reviewed—your words reassure me that my addiction is not in vain._

_Disclaimer__: I do not, and will not ever, own ER._

The mechanical crunch of the elevator doors rang through Neela's ears as she stood staring blankly at the compartment wall in front of her. She was headed downstairs for what seemed to be the tenth surgical consult in less than five minutes; Crenshaw had put her on ER duty for the fourth time this week. As the boxed compartment moved closer and closer to the first floor Neela could feel her stomach dropping in rhythm, and just as she thought she had only two more floors to go, the crunch and sudden opening of the elevator doors forced her to look up. Neela's heart dropped to where her stomach had been just a few moments earlier as she stared at the figure in front of her. It was none other than Katey.

Neela involuntarily moved further into the corner of the compartment to make room for her, all the while cursing at herself for not having taken the stairs. Katey, now an intern, had fatefully matched at County and was doing her rounds in the ICU just one floor below Neela. The two had tried to keep out of each other's way as possible, and it had largely worked. Except for these intensely uncomfortable and awkward moments. They had not spoken since Katey had unceremoniously shouted at her after Ray's accident, blaming her for what had happened to the man she clearly cared for. Neela didn't blame her—she might have done the same if she were in Katey's position—but she just couldn't take seeing the fire and utter hostility in her eyes. Every time she passed her in the hallway, Neela felt like Katey's eyes were boring into her soul, setting what little she had left on fire. This encounter was no different.

Katey stood opposite Neela with her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed, refusing to give in to the temptation to say something nasty. She would just have to endure a few more seconds in her presence, and then she could bolt through the doors and forget Neela even existed. It was at this moment that Neela spoke, uttering something that was meant to sound like words but instead came out as jumbled syllables.

"HvyouherdnethingfromRay?" Neela was looking down at her shoes; it had taken enough courage to speak up, and she didn't think she could muster up even more to actually look at Katey at the same time.

Katey narrowed her eyes further as she looked at Neela. "Sorry?"

"Umm, have you heard anything from Ray...lately?" She attempted to gulp down her immense anxiety, but it only served to make her look entirely vulnerable in front of Katey. And the jilted lover was more than happy to take advantage of it.

"Why do you care?" She said maliciously.

Neela's tone didn't change—it was still the same calm, slightly monotone, voice she used with everyone without knowing she used it. "I just wanted to ask if he was alright," she said.

Katey let out a snort. "You wanted to ask if he was alright," she said sarcastically, "...after he lost his legs because of you, you wanted to ask if he was alright..."

The shrill ring of the elevator bell abruptly ended their conversation. Neela moved to brush past the doors as they opened, and just as the contraption was set to close again, Katey called out, "No, I haven't...but I'm sure he's _far_ from alright...you took care of that, didn't you!" With another deadly look, she was gone.

Neela's body was shaking uncontrollably, her palms cold and sweaty and the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge. She should have kept her mouth shut. But she just couldn't! Knowing that Katey may have heard something, anything, from Ray was enough to pluck up the courage to ask about him. Neela needed to know that he was okay, that he was getting through this. Every time she went to the mailbox, she tried to keep her hopes up. _Today_, she'd say. _Today, he'll have written me back_. And just as the glimmer of hope in her heart had risen to a peak, she would open the box and find it dark and empty and the little shining light would be extinguished only to go through the same misery the next day. Seeing Katey in that elevator had been her chance to hear the words, "Yes, he's fine," but she should have known better than to think that such a scenario would end without further anguish.

As Neela rushed past the hallway-full of patients, doctors, and nurses, she headed straight for the hospital doors. She couldn't offer a surgical consult when her hands were too unsteady to even hold a pen, much less think clearly enough to make an informed decision. She burst through the doors and into the ambulance bay, her eyes scanning the area and finding a bench near the street. As Neela sat down, she unconsciously wrapped her arms around her middle and began rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face. How long would she go through this? How long would it take for all of the guilt, grief, and isolation to swallow her alive?

She sat like this for what seemed to be hours; Neela had lost her sense of time a while ago. The tears had dried and she was sitting staring almost blankly into the night sky, her arms still wrapped around her stomach. It was at this moment that Pratt walked swiftly up to her, his coat trailing in the wind behind him.

"Neela, what happened to you? We've been looking everywhere for you—we needed a consult fifteen minutes ago..." His eyes wandering over Neela, the position of her hands and the look in her eyes, he immediately cut himself off. Something was clearly wrong.

"Neela? What's wrong?" Greg's concern could be heard in the way he spoke to her, a tone of voice that he usually only used with Neela. He felt a responsibility towards her that he didn't think he'd ever feel towards anyone—not even Chaz. It was the concern of a brother.

For the first time in six months, Neela turned her face toward Greg and looked him straight in the eye. What came out of her mouth left him speechless.

"Why didn't you let me die? After the war rally, why didn't you let me die?" They were the most heart-wrenching words he had ever heard, and to have them come from Neela only served to tear at his insides even more.

"Neela...why would you say that?" He wanted to sit next to her on the bench, but something told him she didn't want him there. And sure enough with one swift movement, Neela stood up and faced Greg in a way that he had only seen her use once—when she and Ray were standing in the hallway of the ER yelling at each other.

"What good am I to anyone anyway, Greg? All I manage to do is rip people's hearts out, remember?" Her arms had begun flying in every other direction as she bellowed out the words that had raged in her soul for far too long.

"I'm dead inside, can't you see? He doesn't want to talk to me; he doesn't want anything to do with me! I've written him 186 letters, Greg. Every time I think I'm getting better and the pain gets a little easier to bear, I start spiraling down again until I feel like I've got nothing left. Don't you see that I can't actually _live_ life anymore, not without..."

"Neela..." Greg couldn't stand seeing her like this. But the overwhelming pain in her voice and the slow drop of a tear in the corner of her eye reminded him of a night much like this one, when a hopeless and rash ER doctor had said something not much different. Neela's '_Every time the pain gets a little easier to bear, I start spiraling down again until I feel like I've got nothing left_' had been his '_Every time I think I'm turning the corner and I know what I'm doing, I end up falling backwards again_.' He couldn't help but think how off their damned timing was.

Pratt placed his hands on her shoulders and looked resolutely into her face. "Listen to me, Neela. Ray's in denial, he doesn't know what he's doing—hell, he's trying to deal with being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life! But sooner or later, he's gonna realize that pushing you away means nothing. He's gonna realize that he still loves you. If you give up now, you're never gonna see him get to that point."

Neela said nothing as she looked at Greg and the certainty in his eyes.

"...So he doesn't talk to you and he doesn't write you back. You know where he lives, don't you?" Greg's rhetorical question hit Neela like a splash of cold water, and she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Ray's complete lack of correspondence had made her believe that she wasn't wanted, and her promise to visit seemed to be hinged upon the idea that she was. But now, Neela came to the realization that maybe, just maybe, if he saw her standing in front of him he would finally believe that she truly did love him more than she could ever express with words. Maybe he would push her away again; maybe he would tell her that he couldn't forgive her. But all she wanted was a chance to show him that she was willing to fight her own inner demons for him—that she wouldn't give up. All she could do was try.


	5. Chapter 5

4

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 5 of "Two Worlds." I found this a bit difficult to write, but I hope that it came out well and that you truly enjoy reading it. There is more to come, I promise. Again, thank you to those of you who have reviewed—it really means a lot to me._

_Disclaimer__: I don't own ER._

Ray had been staring at the envelope in his hand for more than ten minutes. It should have been easy and effortless for him to place it in the drawer on top of the mounting pile of similar envelopes and then forget that it was even there. But it wasn't, and unlike the numerous other occasions when his mother had come into the room with the same phrase—'You have a letter, Ray'—he couldn't seem to get himself to put it anywhere besides in his hands.

That letter seemed to symbolize Ray's life—he was taking his life into his hands simply by contemplating opening it. Once he did so, there would be no turning back; Ray didn't know what her words would do to him, and that scared him. He had spent so much time, so much effort, trying to get her out of the corners of his mind that the thought of it all being wiped away because of the newly-formed image of her sitting at the kitchen table, neatly and patiently writing the words in front of him...

The anger rose within him, both at Neela and at himself. _It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter if she spends her whole life writing these damn letters, I have to get her out of my head._ And with that thought, he resolutely convinced himself that opening this letter would help him do that. What could she possibly have to say that he hadn't heard before? He ripped open the envelope and began to read.

_Dear Ray,_

_It's Tuesday night and I just got home from one of the busiest 12-hour shifts I've seen since we were interns. Do you remember the guy that came in twice last year because the mass of gold chains around his neck was completely annihilating his skin? He came into County today, and the back of his neck has become so bad that he needs surgery to remove the accumulation of damaged tissue. He asked for you; he said he should have followed your advice. Clearly, we aren't the only ones that miss you._

_How have you been feeling today? Have the doctors said anything about whether you'll be able to get prosthetics? Usually they do a preliminary examination about six months after, so that should be right around now, right? I hope you get good news. You're going to be okay, Ray. I know it. Maybe it doesn't seem like it now, but you're a fighter and nothing can change that._

_I was watching the Weather Channel this morning, and they said that it was getting windy in Baton Rouge—does it feel anything like Chicago? It's brutal here—I couldn't get my window to close last night, so now I've got a pile of snow in the corner of my room...without an oven to melt it with. _

Just as the memory of Neela's lovable post-it notes caused a slow smile to spread across Ray's face, the recollection of the serious look on her face when she had told him so long ago to melt the snow in the kitchen by turning on the oven, produced an involuntary grin.

That grin was quickly wiped away at the next few words.

_I know you probably think I'm insane for writing to you when you clearly don't want to hear from me, but _

And it was here that the ink began to smudge ever-so-lightly, the paper wrinkled in small neat circles that had unmistakably been where teardrops had fallen.

_writing to you is the only thing that has actually kept me sane and I had to tell you that. Every morning I wake up and I feel like I've just been run over by a train. Sometimes I wish I just didn't wake up at all. But when I write you these letters every night, I can pretend—if only for an hour or two—that someday you'll read the words on this page and remember me. All I seem to do these days is remember you. _

_This doubtless sounds ridiculous coming from me, but if there's anything you need..._

_Yours,_

_Neela_

Ray lifted his eyes from the letter in front of him and suddenly felt a need to touch her words, to sense them wash over him. He could hear her voice in the back of his mind as he read every word, the movement of her lips and the uniqueness of her accent flowing through. Ray's gaze shifted toward the bedside table where he kept all of her previous letters, and in less than a moment, he was opening another letter. And another. And another.

Every letter followed a similar form—it consisted of news about what had happened at County that day, an inquiry into how he was feeling, a mini pep-talk about how he was going to get through this, and some comment about the weather or something she'd seen on TV. And then there would be the faintest hint of a memory—a memory of a time when the best part of their day was simply eating dinner together. A time when life wasn't so complicated; when his roommate was his best friend and that was okay.

_Do you remember that time you invited the band over to practice at 6 am because you felt like you weren't ready for the gig that night? And I totally chewed you out for being so loud in the morning? Well, I should tell you that if it hadn't been for the noise, I would've been late that morning because my alarm clock had died in the middle of the night—I knew if I'd told you, you wouldn't let me hear the end of it. _

Or in another letter:

_I never told you that I could hear you singing in the shower. It always made me laugh. _

Or in yet another:

_The only time I would drink your tequila was when you'd have a 'sleepover'—it drowned out the noise and I would be too drunk to realize that what I was feeling was called jealousy._

And so on for 186 letters. But what killed him the most?

_I realized today that although I loved Michael, I was never really in love with him. Until now, I've never really been in love with anyone. But you_

Once again, the smearing of the ink began and the tears that had dried on the first letter and every letter after that began to dot the rest of the page.

_have shown me what that means, and I will always carry that with me. I will always carry you with me._

The part of him that cared so deeply for her was stirred to life at the obvious pain she was in. "_Every morning I wake up and I feel like I've just been run over by a train." _How long had she been like this? With every envelope he ripped open, the wave of desolation and confusion that had been stirring within his soul deepened. For the past six months, a war had been raging within his very core that threatened to tear his entire being apart. Everyday he would tell himself _"Forget"_ over and over again, only to have his heart overpower his mind when he least expected it.

He had rationalized his decision to forget her at the exact moment when she had resolutely vowed _not_ to forget him. In another time and another place, her words would have been enough. But she had raised his hopes and then crashed them to the ground too many times for him to feel that they actually meant something. He wouldn't dare think that everything would be okay. He wasn't quite sure that they _could be_ okay. And that wouldn't change no matter how much he still loved her.


	6. Chapter 6

4

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 6 of "Two Worlds." This is turning out to be a longer story than I expected, but I like that—it gives me more time away from the stress of life and that's always a good thing. Thank you so very much to those who reviewed the last chapter; I'm really glad that you liked it. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much._

_Disclaimer__: I don't own ER._

Neela had been in a daze of restrained apprehension since she had made the decision to go to Baton Rouge, her entire being moving through the days until her departure as if she were a criminal set to go to trial. Her mind was in such a state of mangled disorder that she couldn't even remember when she had checked-in at the airline desk, or how she had boarded the plane. And when the taxi driver told her that they had reached the address, all she could do was stare at him as if seeing him for the first time. It wasn't until he had taken her bag out of the trunk and was driving away that Neela finally realized where she was. She strung her bag over her shoulder and began walking toward the white picket fence.

As she reached the door, Neela realized how ridiculous she would look if she walked in with her duffel bag and placed it next to the bench on the porch. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

It was less than a moment before it opened.

The woman who opened the door was of medium height, her brown hair speckled with gray and her eyes a clear reflection of her son. Ray's mother felt her heart quicken its pace as she looked at the young woman before her, the last time she had seen her being the day Ray was released from the hospital. She barely recognized her. The once shapely and petite form had turned thin and almost scrawny, her face revealing a hollowness that seemed to be reflected in the very depths of her eyes. The glowing and beautiful Neela had turned into a walking skeleton. Mrs. Barnett couldn't stop her heart from going out to her.

"Hello, Neela," she said cautiously, not knowing what to think of her sudden arrival.

"Umm hello, Mrs. Barnett, I..." Neela began, knowing that she expected an explanation. She had expected her to ask what she was doing here, but the look in her eyes left no need for words.

"...I came to visit Ray, to see how he's doing...I just..."

Ray's mother put her out of her misery. "Why don't you come in," she said, her words serving as a statement of fact rather than a question. Neela walked through the threshold and instantly felt her heart beating thunderously against her chest. _This is it._

"Did you just get in?" Mrs. Barnett asked as she motioned toward the couch.

"Yes, about an hour ago," Neela replied as she sat down. Just as she did so, however, she noticed that Ray's mother was still standing. She clearly wasn't planning on joining her.

"I'll be right back, Neela, okay?" Mrs. Barnett said as she moved toward the far side of the house. From where Neela was sitting, she couldn't see where Ray's mother was going.

Mrs. Barnett reached Ray's room within a matter of seconds, her hand automatically lifting to knock on the door but deciding not to bother. She opened it to find Ray on his bench press, lifting weights as part of his physical therapy routine.

"Ray? You have a visitor," she said a little too gravely for Ray to believe that it was just one of his high school friends, come to offer their miserable sympathy yet again. He sat up and looked at his mother, his confusion clearly reflected on his face.

"It's Neela."

He didn't think he had heard her right. "What?" he said incredulously, his face still sober and stern.

"Neela—she's here to see you," his mother replied, attempting to gauge the thoughts that were going through his head. Ray turned his eyes toward the ground, his eyebrows furrowing as the wheels turning in his brain sought to find an answer to the growing question in his mind.

"Tell her I'm not here," he resolutely said after he had found the answer he was looking for.

His mother let out a chuckle as she said, "What? Ray..."

But Ray cut her off before she could finish her sentence, the severity of his eyes quelling her sure-to-come admonitions. "Tell her I'm not here; tell her I'm at the hospital...at my physical therapy session."

And with that, Ray's mother walked back into the living room to find Neela gazing warmly at the picture of her and a three-year-old Ray, the resemblance between them reflected perfectly in the silver frame before her. At first Neela thought he may have been a sibling that Ray had never mentioned, but the beauty and depth of those bright green eyes was unmistakable. How much she had missed those eyes. Neela looked up at the sound of footsteps.

"This is a beautiful picture," she said, her face breaking into a weak smile for the first time in weeks, maybe months.

"Thank you, it took about seven tries until we got him to actually stand still," she replied smiling back at her. This was going to be hard. Not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer, Ray's mother got to it.

"Neela, Ray's at the hospital, at his physical therapy session...he won't be back until late..." She didn't know how to end her sentence and left it trailing instead, waiting for Neela to finish it for her.

The smile was quickly wiped off her face, a look of disappointment and clear pain etched onto it instead. "Oh...I see...okay well, I guess I'll just..." she said, trying not to sound as if her whole world had come crashing down in a matter of moments.

"I'll tell him you stopped by," Mrs. Barnett responded, knowing that that wasn't enough for someone who had traveled so far. She wanted to tell her to come back some other time, tomorrow maybe...but registering the reality of the situation, she realized that Ray surely would not appreciate such a gesture.

As Neela began walking toward the door, she felt more and more like a fool for thinking that he would actually want to see her. He wasn't at the hospital and she knew it. The tears began welling up in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away before Ray's mother could see her. Turning around to say goodbye she said, "Thank you," not really knowing what she was saying thank you for. _Thank you for not slamming the door in my face?_ _Thank you for not outright telling me that he doesn't want to see me? Thank you for not treating me like dirt, even though I deserve it?_

Mrs. Barnett responded with a reassuring smile and quietly closed the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

4

_Notes__: Hi! Here's Chapter 7 of "Two Worlds"—please let me know if this story is progressing slowly or if it's moving along okay because I feel like I'm drawing it out. It's just that there's so much to say, so much to portray! Anyway, any feedback would be extremely helpful and greatly appreciated. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed—if I could hug you all I really would._

_Disclaimer__: I don't own ER._

Neela sat in the corner of the hotel room, looking forlornly out of the window at the miserable drizzling rain that had begun to trickle down the glass. This was different than Chicago rain—Chicago rain battered your very being as you walked down the street, the icy wind threatening to blow you away, but Louisiana rain was worse, in Neela's opinion. Louisiana rain wasn't intense or wind-whipping—it was this slow, day-long drizzle that seemed to be a form of drawn-out torture for her very soul. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the window.

_I'll tell him you stopped by_. The initial fog that had surrounded Neela when she first heard those words seemed to have gradually lifted over the course of a few days—all spent sitting alone in her hotel room. But now that her head had begun functioning enough for her to actually think about what she was supposed to do, Neela found that the answer was right in front of her if only she would have the courage to follow the little bird that was showing her the way. _Go back_. What if he refuses to see me again? _Go back._ What if he tells me to leave? _Go back, Neela._

She was standing in front of his door for the second time, this time more nervous than the first. And as she went through the niceties of making conversation with Mrs. Barnett, Neela felt the insides of her stomach turn at the thought of another stamp of rejection. It would just be a few minutes now before Ray's mother would come back to tell her that he didn't want to see her. Neela kept playing the scenario over and over in her mind, thinking about just how Mrs. Barnett would tell her, how she would choose her words carefully so as to be completely clear about Ray's intentions. It would be just a few minutes now...

"Neela?" Mrs. Barnett said slowly, giving Neela a chance to pull herself out of the depths of her own mind.

She looked up expectantly. "Yes?"

"Ray's asleep...he had a rough night last night, and he's just really exhausted..." Mrs. Barnett replied in much the same tone as she had the first day, her voice trailing as if expecting Neela to finish the sentence. And just as she had lied that day, she was lying now.

The stabbing pain in Neela's chest temporarily left her breathless. She had attempted to prepare herself for this, but nothing compared to what she was feeling; it was worse than simple physical pain. This was an all-encompassing soul-shattering pain that crept into her heart and spread throughout her entire being in less than an instant.

She couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face as she said, "Okay...I understand..." Mrs. Barnett looked at her with motherly concern and pity, not knowing whether to act upon her feelings or not. Feeling a need to make sure she was going to be alright, she began softly, "Neela..."

But Neela cut her off before Mrs. Barnett's sympathy prohibited her from stopping her tears. It was one of the things she hated most about herself—any sign of concern immediately caused her sobs to increase twofold.

"...I'm sorry for just turning up like this," she said without looking into Mrs. Barnett's eyes, feeling as if she needed to apologize to her for her own foolishness.

"Don't be," Ray's mother said genuinely. She wished things were different—she wished Ray could find it in his heart to forgive the woman he clearly still loved and who loved him enough to come back and try again. Mrs. Barnett's gaze fell on Neela's face and the immense agony etched on her face, and she felt that it was her turn to apologize.

"Neela, I want you to know that I'm sorry for having been so...cold...to you on the phone before...It wasn't my place to..." Neela cut her off for the second time—she couldn't let her apologize. Neela hadn't forgiven herself everything she'd done, and there was no way that she would allow Ray's mother to do so either.

"You're his mother, you have every right to be angry at me. Please don't apologize—I deserve worse..." _I should be the one in that wheelchair_, she couldn't help thinking. What had Ray done to deserve this?

Before Mrs. Barnett could offer more words of reassurance, Neela pulled a small white box out of her bag and handed it to her. "Could you give this to Ray for me?" she said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. And with that, Neela walked out of the house feeling as if she had nothing left to live for.

Ray's mother looked at the box in her hand and began walking immediately toward her son's room, intending to get in a few words of wisdom this time before he cut her off with his "I don't want to see her" look.

She walked in without knocking, knowing that all he was doing was lying on his bed, absently staring at the ceiling. "Neela told me to give you this." As she handed over the little white box, her eyes locked with her son's and she gave him a serious, intense look that only a mother can give and still have it mean something. "She's trying, Ray, give her a chance."

"She doesn't deserve one," he replied, his words a product of his own pain rather than actual truth. He had convinced himself otherwise.

"Yes, she does. Maybe if you saw her you'd realize that," his mother said firmly, the image of Neela's emaciated body and the emptiness in her eyes still haunting her. Closing the door behind her, Mrs. Barnett prayed that he would stop fighting the forces within him. Why had he given up on Neela when his heart clearly hadn't?

Ray sat on the side of his bed, one hand running absently through his hair and the other holding the white box as if it were some fragile piece of glass. He opened it and felt his stomach plummet to the ground. It was a guitar pick.

But it wasn't just any guitar pick—it was _the_ pick. It seemed like such a long time ago. Ray had invited Neela to come to one of the band's gigs, a small show that was sure to be good, and to his surprise she had actually come. She had smiled at him the entire night, mouthing messages like "That was great!" or a mischievous "Much better than practice this morning." He loved it. After the show a small crowd had lined up to meet his band and after they had all left about an hour later, he found Neela sitting at a table nearby patiently waiting for her turn. He met her halfway as she walked toward the stage, his eyes glowing as he returned her smile. His guitar was still strung around his neck as he took the pick—his favorite pick—he customarily placed behind the first string and gave it to her with a sheepish grin that said, _"A souvenir?"_ She had taken it.

And now it was sitting in front of him in a carefully-padded white box, the image of her that night firmly engraved in front of his eyes. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, closing his eyes as he felt the smooth material under his skin. He was trying to remember what it had felt like to be somebody.

As he held it between his fingers, Ray felt an unfamiliar groove on the guitar pick that hadn't been there before. He opened his eyes and looked down at the small triangle in his hand. The groove felt unfamiliar because it wasn't really a groove—it was an engraving. The words were small, and if he hadn't physically felt them he wouldn't have known they were there.

_You'll always be a rock star._

_Love,_

_Neela_

It was as if she could feel what he was feeling, as if she knew he was slowly giving up every semblance of his old life in order to sit in the corner of his room and waste away the rest of it. He could hear the warmth of her voice behind the words; with just a few words she was saying, _"You are still the person you were then—you are still the guy who would stay up until four in the morning to finish a song. Don't let this make you think that you're not. Don't let this destroy you." _

His conflicted mind could do nothing but send silent tears down his cheek. Even now she knew exactly what to say.


	8. Chapter 8

3

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 8 of "Two Worlds." Thank you for the reassurances—I'm glad you're not getting frustrated with this story! I've said this before, but it seems that I've become addicted to writing and it's a bit unnerving seeing as I've got a mounting pile of books to read and exams to study for. But I am writing this as I go along, so hopefully I'll be able to continue updating as frequently as I have so far. I truly, sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Disclaimer__: I don't own ER. "Addicted" belongs to Kelly Clarkson, and "Woman In Love" belongs to Barbara Streisand._

As soon as she was out of the door, Neela lost it. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and it took all her strength to stop herself from collapsing onto the ground as she attempted to walk on. The immense pain that had engulfed her body caused her to bend over in agony and it was in this position that she walked down the street, not knowing where she was going; all she knew was that she needed to get away. And so she walked on. At first her choking sobs had elicited strange looks from everyone she passed on the street, but when her tears had dried she found that she was once again moving through a fog that her own mind had invented and was now operating in. It was so thick that she lost all semblance of reality—she didn't know where she was, and all at once everything she had been feeling seemed to come together to overpower her. The physical pain, the mental anguish, the soul-splitting sorrow...together they formed a beast more formidable than anything Neela had ever had to cope with, and with one swift move it overtook her—mind, body and soul.

Neela had collapsed on the pavement.

In an instant there were bystanders hovering over her, checking her pulse and shouting for someone to call an ambulance. By the time the paramedics arrived, Neela had opened her eyes and was blinking away the blackness that had seemed to become a curtain in front of her face. She was attempting to reassure them that she was fine, that she didn't need to go to the hospital. Of all the places in the world, the last place she wanted to be was in a hospital—it was as if the word itself caused all of her ghosts to attach themselves to her soul. And the more the paramedics pressured her, the more she convinced herself that there was nothing wrong. What could they do for her anyway? Was there a test for self-consuming grief? Was there a pharmaceutical drug for piecing her soul back together?

And so once again, she walked on. Neela wandered the streets for hours, moving in no particular direction but feeling as is she needed to keep moving. Seeing the sky slowly get darker and spotting a small sports pub down the street, she decided to spend the rest of the night sitting in a booth in a corner of the bar, not knowing exactly what she was going to do after that.

_It's like I can't breathe  
It's like I can't see anything  
Nothing but you_

Neela sat staring at her cranberry juice without looking up, the words of the song in the background washing over her. It was amazing how the perfect song could torture your very being.

_It's like I can't think  
Without you interrupting me  
In my thoughts  
In my dreams  
You've taken over me_

It was at this moment that the waitress came up to her with another cranberry juice. As she placed it in front of Neela she said, "This is compliments of the gentleman with the blue tie at the bar."

Neela looked at the waitress as if she hadn't understood what she had said. The waitress turned and lightly nodded in the direction of the man at the bar, and as she did so, he locked eyes with Neela and smiled warmly. It had been so long since she had actually looked at anyone, or since anyone had actually looked at her, that it all felt unfamiliar and unnerving. Neela quickly turned away and told the waitress to take it back to him.

It was around 10 o'clock when the guy with the blue tie walked over to Neela's booth, unable to hold himself back from getting at least an introduction.

"Uh excuse me? I'm sorry if I offended you by sending over a drink, but I just felt like I needed to meet you?" He didn't know how to defend himself in front of her and the fact that his statements took the form of questions revealed his anxiety.

Neela looked up at him and felt her insides turn. He had green eyes.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Of all the men who had asked her the same question, he was the first to actually wait for an answer before taking a seat opposite her. But as he stood there and waited, watching her clearly conflicted face and the hunched position of her shoulders, a feeling of..._was it pity? sympathy?_...found its way into his heart.

"I don't think..." Neela began, unable to look at him as she felt the prickling of tears behind her eyes. Seeing the newly-formed pools in her eyes before they actually fell down her face, he broke in.

"Is everything alright?" He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, to make sure she was alright. He didn't know what it was about her, but all he wanted at this moment was to make whatever it was that was making her cry go away.

Neela didn't answer. Her senses were betraying her again—the music in the background, another song, filling her ears and the lyrics embedding themselves in her brain were all she could concentrate on.

_I am a woman in love  
And I'll do anything  
To get you into my world  
And hold you within  
Its a right that I defend  
Over and over again  
What do I do?  
_

And all at once, the fog in Neela's mind cleared.

She looked up into the bright green eyes that reminded her of the only person she had ever truly loved with every fiber of her being, and said, "I love someone."

How could she think of resigning herself to failure? How could she think of surrendering her soul? Ray had waited for her, he had fought for her...he had loved her—she couldn't give up on him this easily. _"In love there is no measure of time."_


	9. Chapter 9

4

_Notes__: Hi! Alright, here's Chapter 9 of "Two Worlds." Thank you to the wonderful people who have reviewed—I'm sending you all hugs over the internet! I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Disclaimer__: I don't own ER._

Mrs. Barnett couldn't believe her ears. She had heard that knock twice before but she clearly didn't think she would hear it ever again, not after the state Neela was in when she left. A smile of relief broke across her face as she went to answer the door.

"Hello, Neela," she said a bit more cheerily than was usually her nature.

"Hi, Mrs. Barnett, how are you?" Neela replied as Ray's mother led her into the house.

As Neela did so, however, Mrs. Barnett couldn't help but turn around and look at her as if looking at someone she had never met before. The tone of Neela's voice, the nuance of her words, had completely changed in the course of twenty-four hours. It was as if she had been unable to speak before now, only to have her nonexistent voice turn into a nightingale's song. Mrs. Barnett wouldn't go so far as to say she sounded 'bright,' but there was _something_ in her that certainly hadn't been there before. She just couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Recovering enough to realize that Ray wouldn't appreciate Neela's persistence as much as she did, Mrs. Barnett made small talk to delay the moment of reckoning when she would have to open his door and tell him that Neela was here to see him. Knowing her son, he would probably say something like, "Did you have to answer the door? You couldn't have just pretended we weren't home?"

She was awakened from her thoughts by Neela's newly-rejuvenated voice. "Mrs. Barnett? Is Ray home?"

Neela watched the conflicted look on her face—Mrs. Barnett was clearly pondering what to do, and from the furrowed eyebrows and the way she looked at her, Neela could tell she wasn't having any luck coming up with an answer.

"Please...I really need to see him. I can't leave without..." She couldn't finish her sentence as a reminder of the immense agony of the last few days came back to haunt her; she stopped herself before it went any further. No, she wasn't going to do this to herself again—all of the corners of her soul that had been filled with pain she would now fill with determination instead.

Neela's last thought was visibly etched on her face, and it was at this moment that Mrs. Barnett realized she wasn't leaving until she saw Ray, no matter how many times she had to come back. This was what had changed in the course of one day, what had inflected itself in her voice.

Acting on impulse, Mrs. Barnett said, "...Okay, come with me." She didn't know if she was being foolish and naive—she liked to think she wasn't—or if seeing Neela would do anything to bring Ray out of his miserable existence, but it was worth a try.

As they walked toward the far end of the house, Neela's heart quickened just enough to reveal her nervousness. Actually getting in to see him had been the first hurtle, one that she would now successfully achieve. But what good would that do if he refused to talk to her? Or if he refused to listen to what she had to say? Neela attempted to stop herself from feeling overwhelmed. _Baby steps, Neela. Baby steps._

Mrs. Barnett halted at the door and knocked. "Ray?" She said tentatively.

"Yeah?" He called back, his voice distant and almost reluctant to be heard. At that one word, Neela's breath caught in her throat. She had longed to hear his voice for so long that now that she finally had, she wasn't surprised at the effect it had on her; it had always had that effect on her. But she could hear the hidden misery in that one word and it tore at her insides like nothing she had felt before. All of the wretchedness she had been through and the pain she had experienced seemed to pale in comparison.

Mrs. Barnett opened the door while announcing, "Neela's here to see you." She purposely avoided her son's eyes so as to miss the deathly glare he now gave her. She knew it was coming. "Well...I'll leave you two to talk," she hurriedly said and closed the door behind her.

Ray was sitting in his wheelchair, the contraption parked by the window that he spent so much time looking out of. After turning toward his mother when she had first called his name, Ray now turned back toward the glass without so much as looking at Neela. He didn't think it was possible, but he was feeling even more conflicted these days than he had ever felt before. Her letters...the guitar pick...every time he had made up his mind to be enraged at her for the rest of his life, she had to go and do something to mess with his head, to make him wish that things had been different...

"How've you been, Ray?" She yearned to see his face, look into his eyes...but she couldn't let her simple desires ruin her chance of having the opportunity to talk to him. Neela stood fixed to her spot by the door, afraid that one move toward him would unleash a swift order for her to leave.

Ray's gaze was transfixed out of the window. He couldn't look at her—he shouldn't _want_ to look at her. The memory of the softness of her hair and the way it curled in odd directions when it was wet, the way her lips were so small he could easily cover them with his...Ray had to close his eyes in an effort to shut out the thoughts that were now polluting his mind.

"Why are you here, Neela?" Ray tried to sound detached and nonchalant, but he had never been good at hiding anything from her and now was no exception. Neela could see and hear the painful and conflicted state of his soul as if she were physically touching it.

She took one step toward him and stopped herself. "I...I came to see _you_..."

He cut her off. "Why are you here?" It was as if he were asking himself the same question while interrogating her; either way, the insistence for an answer was clear.

"I'm here to ask you to forgive me and...and to tell you that I..." Ray broke in for the second time before Neela could say what she had longed to tell him since the moment she had walked in the door.

"What if I can't forgive you?" The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to process the tail end of her sentence. _It doesn't matter anyway_, he thought. _This isn't kindergarten—she can't just say 'I'm sorry' and expect me to take it without_...

It was at this moment that Ray's mother burst through the door, telephone in one hand and the other covering the mouthpiece while she said hurriedly, "I'm so sorry for interrupting, but Ray, your doctor's on the phone and he says it's urgent..."

Ray turned around and did everything in his power to avoid looking at Neela. He focused his attention on his mother instead as he replied, "It's fine. Neela was just leaving."

Mrs. Barnett looked dismayed and slightly shocked. "Oh..." was all that came out of her mouth as she handed Ray the telephone. She glanced at Neela and found her standing in the same spot she had left her just a few minutes ago, her shoulders hunched a little bit more than they were, and her eyes a little sadder than they were. _Oh for goodness' sake..._

"Neela, are you busy tomorrow night?" Mrs. Barnett was glad Ray was on the phone and unable to cut in with some type of loud objection. Neela looked at her with an expression that exuded gratitude at the lifeline she had just thrown her.

"No, I'm not..." she answered without looking at Ray, her words quiet yet resolute.

"Great, then why don't you join us for dinner? We haven't had company in so long—it would be nice to have a new face at the table." At this point, Ray looked at his mother as if she were his bitter enemy, his eyes boring into her as if to say 'I can't believe you just did that...' It was true he was on the phone, but that didn't mean he couldn't hear what was going on between Neela and his mother in the meantime. He felt betrayed. His mother had been on his side; she had been as cold to Neela on the phone as he would have been had he talked to her, if not more so. And now...now she was playing this game as if one night—one dinner—would absolve Neela of all the pain she had caused him; as if he would be able to look at her again the way he used to when...

"I would love to," Neela replied.


	10. Chapter 10

4

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 10 of "Two Worlds," set in the time frame of Season 14. To everyone who has read/reviewed, you're all wonderful and I appreciate each and every one of you. At the rate I'm going, this may turn out to be a 20-chapter story! Anyway, I very much hope you enjoy this chapter. _

_Disclaimer__: I do not, and will not ever, own ER._

The silence hung thick in the air. Neela was sitting opposite Ray at the dinner table with Mrs. Barnett on her left, the only audible noise being the slight cling-clang of spoons and forks against sparkling china. They had been sitting like this for the past twenty minutes; every time Neela attempted to raise her voice, nothing would come out—one look at Ray was enough to reawaken the fears brewing in her soul. But just as she was about to give in to her anxieties, Neela snapped back to reality. _I can't let him get to me_.

"This is wonderful," Neela finally blurted out as she finished chewing her latest bite of Mrs. Barnett's delicious southern dish.

Ray's mother smiled warmly. "Thank you. It's an old family recipe—Ray's favorite." And with the last two words, Mrs. Barnett gave her son a knowing look. When he was in college and came home to visit during the holidays, she would cook tubs of it so he could take it back with him. Ray didn't so much as raise his head at her words. Since Neela's arrival, the only words that had come out of his mouth were "Hello, Neela"; after the initial salutation, he had spent all his energy concentrating on everything but her—the paint on the walls, the seemingly ancient coffee table, the food on his plate...

"So Neela, have you had a chance to take a look around Baton Rouge?"

Neela looked at her sheepishly. "Umm, no I haven't, unfortunately." She didn't think the bar she had visited counted, and the walls of her hotel room certainly were no tourist attraction.

"Well, if you get the chance, there's a beautiful botanical garden just a few minutes down." A sparkle lit up Mrs. Barnett's eyes as she continued, "It's where Ray's father asked me to marry him."

Neela smiled, her eyes reflecting the warmth that had just filled her heart. She had never been one to cry during sappy movies or to classify herself as a hopeless romantic; it just wasn't in her nature. And when Michael had died and Ray had left, she seemed to have lost all faith in the very idea of love itself. But now, something about the way the light shone in Mrs. Barnett's eyes made her believe—for the first time in a long time—in the beauty of it all.

_They must have been really happy_, Neela thought. But as her head revolved around Ray's family and what his childhood must have been like, she realized that he had never told her why his parents had separated. From what it looked like, his father must have been the one who left because it was abundantly clear that Mrs. Barnett still loved him, even after all these years. An involuntary look of concern and sympathy crossed Neela's face just as Mrs. Barnett decided to change the subject, acutely aware that her son probably had not filled her in on all the distressing details of his parent's marriage.

"How are things at County?" Mrs. Barnett knew Ray was eager to hear news of Chicago, but seeing as he had made up his mind to pretend to be invisible tonight, she asked the question for him.

Neela took a deep breath; she didn't know where to begin. So much had changed in such little time. As images of the hospital filled her head, she let out a slightly nervous laugh and began.

"Umm...they're good. There's a new Chief in the ER—he's...shaking things up a bit. He wants to improve patient care and reduce waiting time, but he seems to be really getting on everyone's case and they all hate it."

Ray looked up for the first time that night, a slightly puzzled look on his face. Instantly realizing what she had failed to explain, Neela continued, "Luka left for Croatia about six months ago to care for his father—he's been very sick." Ray's eyebrows furrowed in concern at the sadness in her voice. _But what about Joe and Abby?_

As if to read his mind, she added, "Abby and Joe are doing fine; they're actually going to visit in a few weeks. I stayed with them for a little bit after..." Neela was about to say 'after I got out of the hospital' but caught herself just in time and came up with another way to end her sentence. "...after he left." As memories of Abby's adorable son came to mind, a rather cute smile spread across Neela's lips. "He's getting so big...and he can actually form words—it's the sweetest thing. I'm officially known as 'Nee' now," she said laughingly.

Ray couldn't help but think how much he had missed that laugh, and how cute she now looked talking about what Joe's nickname for her was. The thought was quickly wiped away as Ray's eyes found his plate again.

Neela continued. "Greg's doing fine—he's still going out with Bettina, and everyone's teasing him that this is the longest relationship he's ever been in...which might actually be true," she chuckled. "Alex is back from the school Sam had sent him to; they seem to be doing well." Neela contemplated not mentioning anything about the next name that came to mind, but she knew that wasn't the right thing to do. She couldn't let her own feelings toward Katey determine what she would or would not reveal about County. The same didn't apply to Tony; she wouldn't bring up his name if her life depended on it. "Katey's an intern now—she matched at County." The absence of a response from Ray caused Neela to carry on.

"Hope and Morris are...umm..." She was suddenly at a loss for words. "...well, Hope is pregnant, actually...and they're getting married next month." It had been a few months now and the news still amazed Neela when she found herself consciously thinking about it.

Ray couldn't contain his reaction. He burst out laughing, sheer disbelief etched on every inch of his face. "What?! You're kidding..."

Neela laughed in response. "No, it's true. Hope's a bit worried about what her parents are going to say, but as long as they get married she thinks it'll be okay. Morris is so excited it's hilarious—he's printed little baby t-shirts that say 'Trust me, I'm a brain surgeon' and 'Daddy's little doctor'..."

Ray could just see Morris running around the hospital with the news—it made him smile. He didn't realize how much he had missed his friends until now, and Neela's next words seemed to hit him right where it hurt.

"You're invited to the wedding. Morris asked me for your address so he and Hope could send you an invitation." Neela attempted gauge his thoughts as she looked at him. His response sent a cold chill down her spine.

"Ah weddings, really aren't my thing anymore...I think I've lost enough limbs." The sarcasm and vindictive tone of his voice caused Neela to flinch and Mrs. Barnett to attempt to diffuse the instantly boiling situation.

"Well it looks like the sun is about to set, Ray—why don't you and Neela go sit on the front porch for a little bit while I clear the table?" Despite Neela's inclination to help her with the dishes, Ray's mother gave them both a hard look that dared either of them to protest.

Ray slowly wheeled himself away from the table and toward the door, Neela walking just a few steps behind him. She could see the still-apparent scowl on his face and gulped involuntarily. She had been desperately blinking away the tears of guilt forming in the back of her eyes. As she watched his arms turn the wheels, Neela suddenly realized that the brake on the wheelchair was slowly clamping down. Ray could feel the resistance and though he said nothing, his confusion was apparent.

"Ray..." she began, but was quickly cut off by his anger and frustration.

"I don't need any help, Neela, if that's what you were going to say." No matter what it was he would figure it out—if it were anyone else he knew he wouldn't be so stupidly stubborn, but he would rather sit in front of the door all night before accepting any help from her.

"Ray, the brake..."

"Damn it, Neela, I said I don't need any help!" As soon as he'd said it, Ray felt like an ass. He was acting childish and he knew it. Yelling at Neela wouldn't make him any more independent than yelling at his mother had. Despite this realization, the apology he owed her failed to materialize. Instead, he rolled his eyes at his own stubbornness and at the failing contraption he was stuck in. He opened the door, lifting the brake that had fallen, and carefully wheeled himself down the short ramp and onto the porch.

Neela was temporarily stunned, her eyes watching Ray as he maneuvered the wheelchair into place next to the bench on the porch. She knew his outburst was directed more at his own feelings of incompetence rather than at her, but it still hurt to hear him shout at her the way he did. Once again blinking away the tears that seemed to want to force themselves out of her eyes, she raised herself up to her full height. Neela walked out of the door and sat resolutely next to him on the bench.


	11. Chapter 11

4

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 11 of "Two Worlds." I'd like to point out that this chapter (and perhaps some of the following ones) may contain some medical discrepancies and I apologize beforehand for those. I'm not a doctor and I really don't know anything about scarring, bruising, or surgery, so please take whatever I say with a grain of salt. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who have read/reviewed—you're wonderful (but you know that already)! I truly hope you enjoy the chapter._

_Disclaimer__: I do not, and will not ever, own ER._

As Ray's eyes lifted to the sky, a quiet sigh of frustration and regret escaped his lips. The few seconds of hesitation that had prevented Neela from immediately following Ray out onto the porch was enough to make him realize—however grudgingly—that he really did owe her an apology for his outburst. As she sat on the bench next to him, Ray looked into his lap and half-gently, half-distantly said, "I uh...I'm sorry for shouting at you."

Neela turned towards him at his words; she hadn't expected an apology, especially after his icy tone at dinner. Hearing the utter vulnerability in his voice, a fierce piercing pain penetrated her heart and it took all her strength not to clutch at her chest. No matter how many frosty looks he gave her or how many times his anger and bitterness threatened to push her away, she needed to show him somehow that he was still _whole_.

"It's alright," she said quietly. Neela didn't want to push anything—at least not yet. She knew for certain that if she initiated the conversation, he would shut himself off completely. Ray needed to feel comfortable enough, he needed to feel in control; he had lost control over so many aspects of his life that even the simple idea of being able to choose a topic of conversation was a way to make him feel somewhat normal. If they were going to talk at all, he would have to say the first words.

Neela had turned her gaze toward the deep ribbons of color in the sunset sky, and through the corner of her eye, found that Ray was doing the same. Neela couldn't help but think of all the times they had sat like this when they were roommates, not uttering a word as they did something as simple as watch television or just hang out on the couch after a long shift. She closed her eyes as the memories filled her mind, creating a sort of curtain. _I miss him so much..._

"I come out here every night and the colors are always different—one night the sky turns purple and the next night it turns red. I can never figure it out." Ray seemed to be talking more to himself than to Neela. Watching the sunset always had an effect on him—at times constructive and heartening, and at other times destructive and soul-shattering. Neela looked at Ray with eyes that urged him to go on; that urged him to say with words what he had been expressing with anger.

"You know what they don't teach you in medical school? They don't teach you to think like a patient—you're always thinking like a doctor. You ask for a history, you ask them what their symptoms are, you make a diagnosis, and you're out of there before they have time to ask you what the hell is going on. You're always supposed to be in control, you're supposed to know what you're doing...you can't show weakness." Neela knew this was going somewhere and she hoped to God that she would know what to say when he got there.

"My first year at County, I remember running in the other direction when a breast cancer patient started crying in front of me. I couldn't...it was like I had stopped being an actual person the minute I walked through the door. An amputee once told me she felt like her life was ending and all I could say was, 'It'll be okay, you'll be fine.'" Ray chuckled slightly and looked at his hands in his lap. "I guess karma really does get you." He paused briefly, still keeping his gaze on the sky above, before feeling the urge to continue.

"Do you know what it's like to see your life pass before your eyes before you've lived a third of it? I try to imagine what I could possibly look forward to...what my life will be like when I'm fifty, and all I see is a cold, lifeless cripple in a wheelchair, probably living off disability checks and...God knows what. I used to be...I used to be in a fucking band...I was a doctor—a good one—and now look at me. I spend half my time looking out of a damn window." Ray had never laid out the curves and corners of his mind like this, at least not out loud.

Neela felt the throbbing beast within her chest rear its head; she couldn't sit here and listen to him do nothing but put himself down—he didn't deserve it. The words that came out were gentle and soft, almost like a whisper. "Ray, nothing has changed. You will always be a doctor—just because you'll be wearing prosthetics doesn't mean you can't run a trauma or see as many patients as everyone else does. And I'm sure your fingers still know what a guitar feels like..." What she wouldn't give to hold those same fingers in her hands at this very moment.

Ray turned his head away before Neela could see him ferociously trying to blink away the tears that were now attempting to force themselves out of his eyes. There was something about the way her words felt, not the way they sounded; it was as if he could feel them embracing his body, mind, and soul all in one.

"...You are still Ray Barnett—the same cocky, caring, beautiful person you were then. Don't ever call yourself a cripple." Her eyebrows furrowed as she gently shook her head at the admonition. At her words Ray slowly turned his gaze on Neela, and what he saw were eyes that exuded the warmth, concern, and love that were brimming from her soul. He had felt it—now he could see it. A tear he had tried so hard to blink away just a few moments earlier had found its way down his cheek.

Neela's hand stirred from its spot on the bench before she consciously realized what she was doing. In an instant, her hand was moving to wipe away the symbol of his pain that had so gently begun traveling down his face. And just as she reached his face, she recognized what a grave mistake she had made. Ray had turned his face away.

Ray's mind raged at his own weakness, his conflicted soul again tearing his insides apart. _What happened to 'Forget,' Ray?_ The wrath that had been just under the surface since Neela's arrival just a few days ago finally found a way out. He turned to face her again, now with eyes that seemed to bore into her like knives. "You think you can just show up here and pretend like nothing happened? Like everything'll magically be okay? It doesn't work that way, Neela."

She felt like an idiot. Of course Neela knew Ray was right—she couldn't expect everything to be okay after a few choice words and a look that reflected the love hiding somewhere deep within the both of them. But she knew that his sudden transformation echoed something much more dangerous to any future they could hope to have: he still associated his love for her with the accident. Neela's efforts to reawaken his living spirit had evoked a violent reaction because he felt that _she_ shouldn't be the one to try to do so; after all, in his eyes, she had been half the reason he was in this state in the first place. To admit that her words actually meant something—actually made him feel better somehow—would be a sort of betrayal of his own body. Only when Ray had forgiven her, accepted her, would Neela be able to help him through this.

"Ray, you can't keep doing this to yourself..." she started cautiously and still as gently as before, but Ray cut her off before she could attempt to finish.

"Just go home, Neela." His words were firm as he turned his head away from her for what seemed to be the third time in less than a few minutes.

Neela opened her mouth but was cut off again, this time more firmly. "Go home."

She took a deep look at him before realizing that she would accomplish little else tonight if she decided to be as stubborn as he was. Neela slowly rose from the bench and reached for her bag, which she had tucked under her seat when she and Ray first stepped outside. Ray turned toward her as he felt the air next to him suddenly turn empty and cold where it had somehow been warm before, glad that she was apparently heeding his words. But as Neela bent over and her arm reached under the bench, the beautiful dark blue blouse she was wearing lifted ever-so-slightly to reveal a little more than an inch of skin all around her middle. Ray's eyes wandered long enough to see something that made him question whether his mind was playing tricks on him.

Just to the side of her stomach, there was a large, deep scar that he felt certain hadn't been there before. Or had it? Neela had never told him about any type of surgery she had had in Britain, and considering how close they were—_had been_—he knew she would have told him about it. Unaware that Ray had been looking at her, Neela grabbed her bag and strung it over her shoulder. As she did, however, she now found Ray staring at the part of her arm that had been so unceremoniously revealed when she had reached under the bench for her bag.

Ray had never seen scars—or marks—like that before. It was as if her arm had been bruised but the bruising never fully healed. And he could have sworn he saw another surgical scar just above her wrist...and another one halfway up her arm?

_Damn shirt—I'm never wearing silk again._ She quickly pulled down her sleeve and averted her eyes. Muttering a quick goodbye and mumbling something about saying thank you to Mrs. Barnett, Neela hurriedly walked away from the house.


	12. Chapter 12

6

_Notes__: Hello! This is Chapter 12 of "Two Worlds." Sorry it's taken a bit longer to update this time than usual—it's towards the end of the semester and things are sort of piling up, but this chapter is a bit longer than previous ones so hopefully that will make up for it. I'm really enjoying reading your reviews, and I truly, sincerely, thank all of you for the wonderful comments. I hope I don't let you down._

_Disclaimer__: I do not, and will not ever, own ER. The song is Stephen Marley's "Hey Baby."_

Ray had lost all semblance of sleep. For the past two days all he could do at night was lie awake in his bed, staring at every little piece of stucco on the ceiling until his eyes felt like everything was a blur. After a few hours of this slow torture he would resign himself to listening to some obscure CD he didn't know he had, only to find that instead of wiping his mind clean of the thoughts that were preventing him from finding rest, it was causing him to associate each and every word of each and every song with...her.

A particular Stephen Marley song was a perfect illustration:

_Hey baby, don't you worry_

_Even though the road is rocky,_

_I'll be coming home to you again..._

_It's a joy when I sit down and think of the good times that we have_

_And what we do to make it through when the good turns to the bad..._

_A time, a space, a different place_

_How perfect we might be_

_I would be the wind that blows, you'd be that willow tree_

_And I could never bear the thought of you not by my side,_

_So I would be the warmth of day, you'd be the cool of night..._

During these late night reveries, Ray could do nothing but wait for the darkness to fade and the sun to stop hiding beneath the horizon. A few more days of this and he would lose his mind.

On the third day, Ray found himself unconsciously revealing things that his mother knew were already there. The anticipation in his voice, the slight tone of anxiety—it was all very clear where his head was these days, and Mrs. Barnett couldn't say she was surprised. What did surprise her, however, was the fact that Ray—for the first time—actually let her see it.

After clearing this throat in an attempt to get her attention, Ray almost shyly said, "...uh...has anyone...called for me?"

Mrs. Barnett's eyebrows involuntarily raised at his question, her mind cautioning her while simultaneously fighting the urge to smile. She found it quite funny that Ray insisted on asking her such a question when he would clearly know if anyone had called—he never left the house. And it didn't look like he was getting any sleep either, so he couldn't have ventured that 'someone' had called while he was asleep.

Keeping a straight face she said, "No, Ray; no one's called." She watched his expression as it slowly began to fall into a state of reserved disappointment. Without bothering to reply or elaborate, he wheeled himself toward his room and shut the door.

Ray lifted himself out his wheelchair and sat on the edge of the bed, a swirl of questions that had been lingering in his mind for the past three days refusing to leave him in peace. _What was that scar on her stomach? And what happened to her arm? Had she really gone back to Chicago like he had told her to?_ He was still embittered and angry, but the last few days he seemed to be condemning himself more than anyone else. A certain edge that had been there before seemed to have disappeared, and those simple words from that night, '_You are still Ray Barnett—the same cocky, caring, beautiful person you were then'..._ '_You can't keep doing this to yourself'..._kept playing over and over in his head. He didn't know how he felt about anything anymore; he didn't know how felt about Neela coming to Baton Rouge, or how he felt about Chicago. In fact, he didn't know how he felt about Neela period. One thing he did know, however, was that she was right. The sooner he stopped blaming everyone in his life for what happened, the sooner he could work on making his life worth something again. He just needed to find the strength and wisdom to do so.

He couldn't take it anymore. Ray flipped open the phone that was just an arm's reach away on the table beside his bed and dialed a number he had thought was long since forgotten. As the dial tone rang through his ears, he couldn't help but quietly urge a certain fellow doctor to answer his phone.

"Hello?" Pratt's voice echoed through the line. He sounded hurried and somewhat tense, a sure sign that he was at work.

Ray hadn't realized how difficult this was going to be. After the accident he had de facto cut all ties with Chicago, particularly his friends, and it wasn't until dinner with Neela that he realized what a mistake he had made. Even Greg's frazzled voice sounded good to him.

"Yeah Greg? It's Ray."

Pratt didn't think he had heard right. "Ray?"

Ray replied with a laugh, "Yes, Pratt, it's me."

_He's laughing, that must be a good sign_, Greg thought. Cautiously optimistic, he said with a smile in his voice, "Wow, how's it going, man? We haven't heard from you..."

Ray suddenly felt incredibly guilty. "Uh yeah, sorry about that...how're things with you?"

"Good...good, thanks." Greg knew there had to be a reason behind a call that was now six months late; he had tried to call so many times that he finally realized Ray didn't want to deal with anyone in Chicago period. He had understood. But there was a difference between 'anyone in Chicago' and 'Neela' and he felt that Ray needed to recognize that before both he and Neela ruined the rest of their lives because of it. He knew in his heart that this phone call had something to do with her. Feeling the urge to ask if she had stopped by his place yet, he stopped himself before the words actually came out of his mouth. _What if she hadn't?_

Taking his chances, Greg decided this was too important to let go. "Ray, have you seen Neela?" His voice reflected the anxiety he had been feeling ever since Neela left for Baton Rouge, but there was a certain firmness to it at the same time that seemed to dare Ray to say 'no.'

Ray should've seen it coming. Of course everyone would know Neela had left; all it took was one loudmouth Crenshaw. But not everyone knew why she had left—Greg and Abby, and perhaps Morris, were likely the only ones that had a clue. Despite this realization, he still felt a sting at the mention of her name.

"...uh yeah, I have...listen Greg, I..." But Pratt cut him off before he could finish his sentence, uncertain as to what he was going to say. From the first few words Pratt determined that Ray was giving her just as hard a time now as he had by not returning her calls or replying to her letters. _He really isn't making this easy, is he? _ Greg couldn't prevent himself from cutting Ray off—he felt like he had to fight for Neela, he had to be the man in her corner. If Greg didn't speak up for her he wasn't sure she would speak up for herself.

"Ray, all she's asking is that you forgive her...don't you think she's paid enough for her mistakes?" The memory of her small, fragile body on the gurney, a breathing tube covering almost half of her face and a plethora of lines and wires from one machine to another...the image flashed through Greg's mind and he involuntarily flinched.

_Paid for her mistakes?_ "Greg, why are there marks on her arm?" Ray's voice was as firm as Pratt's, a certain sense of apprehension filling his mind as he waited for an answer. He hadn't intended to bring it up so early in the conversation, but Pratt's words seemed to bore into his soul. Ray needed to know—he didn't know why—but he needed to know what had happened to the one person he would have died for so long ago.

_Of course_, Greg thought. _The reason behind the call_. "She hasn't told you?" He said a little too sarcastically. Neela would no doubt conceal her own pain in front of him because to her, Ray's pain trumped her own and she had no right to allow him to see what she had been through—it was all very Neela-like. Ray couldn't possibly have thought that she would be okay after he left, and if he did, then he didn't know his best friend as well as he liked to think he did.

"No, she hasn't," Ray replied equally indignantly.

"Well I think that's something you should ask her. You need to hear it from her—I can't tell you."

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Neela was sitting in a small coffee shop around the corner from her hotel, her drink getting cold as she stared out of the window at the myriad of faces walking by. She had spent the last three days in much the same way, exploring all the different places she could find that allowed her to just sit and drown in her own thoughts. _He needs time_, she kept thinking. She had resolved to give him a few days to sort of ruminate over things before she went back and tried again. And hopefully in that time he would forget what he had seen on her arm.

As a particularly cute-looking baby smiled at her from his stroller just outside the window, Neela couldn't help but think of Abby and Joe and how much she missed them. A pang of guilt pierced her heart as she realized how little she had been there for them in the past few months. The deeper she had fallen into her own sorrow, the less she had paid attention to anyone else's, and although Neela believed Abby to be a much stronger person than herself, she knew that Luka's departure must be affecting her even more now than when he had first left.

Neela flipped open her phone and dialed an affectionately familiar number.

Abby's tired voice answered, a clear sign that she had just arrived home from an overnight shift. Neela knew that voice anywhere.

"Hello?"

"Abby, it's Neela—how are you?" The warmth and concern in her voice was enough to indicate to Abby that a change had come Neela's way. She had missed her friend, the one that had driven her completely insane with her late-night vacuuming so long ago. The few weeks Neela had stayed with her and Joe after the injury had been nice, but there was a barrier there that Abby just wasn't able to cross; it seemed that the barrier had finally come down.

"Neela...I'm good, I just got home from a ridiculously long shift actually. It's good to hear from you," she said genuinely.

"How's Joe? He's not driving you crazy, is he?" Neela really missed the little guy—at one point she had thought he was the only person who would ever love her unconditionally.

Abby laughed. "He's knocking things over just because he can, now that he's walking. It's terrible. And I have to padlock everything that opens, cushion all the table edges..."

"Hmm...sounds fun." Abby could tell she was smiling on the other end. Despite enjoying their light-hearted conversation, Abby knew there would be a point when the reality of Neela's situation would kick in. There would be a point when Abby would have to tell her what she had overheard that day.

"So how're things in Baton Rouge?" She hadn't been surprised when Neela left—she thought it was about time. But now that she was actually there, it seemed almost too surreal to believe.

"Umm...they're okay," Neela replied. "I...I went to see Ray and he's not doing so well. He's still trying to...adjust...to everything and it's just really painful to see him like that."

Abby knew there was more to it than Neela was letting on. He obviously hadn't welcomed her with open arms—not that Neela had expected him to—and Abby knew this couldn't be easy for her. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Ray was going through, but she was absolutely certain of one thing: only Neela could truly help him through this. She just wished he would let her.

"Have you two talked...I mean, _really_ talked?" Abby was hoping Neela would give her some reason to overcome the pessimism that was slowly invading her mind.

"Sort of...I've mostly gotten the cold shoulder. Every time he opens up even just a little, he immediately shuts himself off again." Neela didn't want to elaborate on the hurtful words she'd been on the receiving end of.

_Why am I not surprised?_ "Listen, Neela, there's something you should know." She hated to do this; a part of her wanted to tell her not to give up, to fight whatever it was that was eating away at Ray, but another part of her rationalized that Neela couldn't give up everything she had worked so hard for. Or could she?

"I was wheeling a patient up to surgery today and I overheard the Chief of Staff talking to Dubenko about the residency program."

Neela didn't like where this was going.

"He was saying that Dubenko broke some rule by promising to hold your spot until you got back, since you didn't say when that would be. He said they couldn't afford to do so when there were so many more interns waiting now than when they first opened up the slot...Neela, if you don't come back within the next few days, you're going to lose your residency."


	13. Chapter 13

7

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 13 of "Two Worlds." I'm not sure how long this is going to go on for, but like I said, at the rate I'm going it might take a while. Thank you for being patient. To all reviewers, past and present: you're pretty much the only reason I'm writing this, so you're all awesome and I appreciate your words of encouragement. After the season finale, I've been in a rather gloomy mood about ER and as a Roomie/Reela supporter I know I shouldn't give up, but one can't help but feel a bit down about it all sometimes, right? Anyway, let's hope things turn out the way they are meant to._

_Disclaimer__: I do not own ER._

Every time Neela made this trek to the front door, her insides would turn; she never knew what to expect. A door slammed in her face? A '_Come on in'_? So many scenarios had gone through her mind in the past week that if she kept imagining things she was sure she would lose sight of what was real and what was not.

Neela had come to try again, in the hope that maybe his words_—'Go home'_—had been spoken in pain and anger rather than a true reflection of how he felt. There was nothing left for her but hope.

As the door slowly opened, a quiet gasp of surprise escaped her lips; Ray had opened the door. Seeing him in front of her, Neela's mind purged itself of everything that had been weighing on her since she had arrived in Baton Rouge, including Abby's warning about her residency, until the only thought, the only word, left was '_Ray_.'

Attempting to gauge his thoughts as she looked into his face, Neela said with a smile, "Hey."

Ray looked worn and more tired than usual as he replied with his own, "Hey." Seeing her stand in front of him did nothing to resolve the confusion and ambiguity he had been dealing with the last few days, but just having her there seemed almost...comforting. After three days of wondering, of picturing her scars in his mind and reliving the words she had tried to say the first time she had stood before him, he couldn't help but feel relieved that she was still here, still in Baton Rouge.

"...Uh come in..." He said a bit awkwardly, maneuvering his wheelchair so that she could get through the door. He noticed that she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse again. Neela's eyebrows raised just enough to reveal her amazement—he had actually invited her in. Just a few days ago he had refused to even let her know he was home, and now..._Don't get your hopes up, Neela_, she chided herself. _For all you know he could be inviting you in only to tell you he never wants to see you again_. Her face fell at the thought.

She sat gingerly on the couch as if she would have to get up again in just a few moments. Venturing to start the conversation she asked, "How's your Mum?"

Ray was still attempting to wheel himself into a comfortable position opposite the couch, but he replied as he was doing so. "She's fine—she went out to get groceries." He figured that was probably what she was asking—he had seen the look on her face when he opened the door. He couldn't say he blamed her.

"Oh, I see." This was going to be more difficult than she expected; having become so used to communicating through his mother, she now found that she didn't know what to say when the first face she saw when she walked through the door was his.

_Just say it, Neela_, she prodded herself. "...umm listen, I was wondering if you wanted to go to that botanical garden your mother was talking about? It's really nice out..." Neela knew Ray never left the house, and she thought that maybe if they spent even a little bit of time in the sun he would realize what he was missing. _It would do him good_, she thought. But Neela would rather bite her tongue than tell him that—she had come to discover his almost resentful attitude toward anything that even remotely resembled concern. What his family and friends labeled 'caring' he labeled 'patronizing,' and now was not the time to delve into a conversation about his psychological misconceptions.

It took what seemed to feel like ages for Ray to answer, but Neela was well rewarded when he did. Almost hesitantly he said, "...Yeah...okay." Since he had come to Louisiana, Ray had ventured to go outside once, and that one experience was enough to turn him off of the thought for the next few months. The stares, the pitying glances in his direction, the whispers, and the almost frightened eyes of children passing by—they all made him feel like a monster. And it wasn't that this feeling had suddenly disappeared at the awareness of Neela's question; it was just that a certain air of—_was it confidence?_—seemed to fill his heart as she stood there. He felt almost positive that he would still get stares, but it didn't really seem to matter anymore. It was at this realization that he had agreed to go.

Neela tried to contain the sudden beaming smile that was now radiating from her face. She couldn't contain it from her voice, however, as she said, "Great." As Neela sat patiently waiting for Ray to get ready, she tried the best she could to prevent her newfound optimism from getting the better of her.

Ray wheeled himself into the living room and towards the door, but Neela's voice stopped him before he reached the door. "Umm, should we leave a note for your Mum?...So she doesn't get worried?" Ray noticed the use of 'we' rather than 'you' and realized it was because of him. Lately it was as if everyone was always extra careful not to rile him up—'_we should leave a note_' certainly seemed better than a somewhat deriding '_you should leave a note_.' He couldn't say he blamed her for being cautious; after the way he'd been treating people, he couldn't say he blamed anyone for being so.

"Yeah, there's a notepad in the kitchen." A quiet sigh of uncertainty escaped his lips as he watched her disappear into the far end of the house. He didn't know what to expect from Neela or from himself; all he could do was wait and see.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

The short ten-minute walk to the garden went better than Ray expected. He didn't know if it was because Neela was gently strolling next to him, or if he failed to pay attention to anything but the feel of the warm glow of the sun on his face, but being outside actually wasn't that bad. They reached their destination in silence.

The botanical garden was breathtaking. The aroma of each and every flower invaded Neela's senses as she and Ray began their expedition at the very front of the high-arched greenhouse door and made their way down the beautiful path. Thankfully, it was wide enough for Ray's wheelchair to get by without Neela having to walk behind him.

Neela ventured to start the conversation, Mrs. Barnett's words replaying in her mind. "So is this where your Mum and Dad met? Is that why he proposed to her here?"

"Yeah, she really likes flowers—as you can probably tell by her front yard—and she happened to be here one Saturday when my Dad brought his Biology class on a field trip." Retelling the story made Ray think of all the times he had heard it over the dinner table through the years.

Neela smiled—she could just imagine a much younger Mrs. Barnett sitting on one of the vintage wooden benches and watching the likely very handsome Mr. Barnett talking about chlorophyll and photosystems.

Ray continued, "They used to garden together every weekend. Even if there were no more weeds to pull out, or if there was no more room to plant anything else, they would still end up spending hours in the back yard. Drinking lemonade, actually..." and he let out a chuckle at the memory.

"They must have really loved each other," Neela said quietly, her words dissipating into the bright Louisiana sunshine streaming into the greenhouse. She instinctively turned her head away and looked at the ground. She hadn't meant the words to mean anything but what they were: a recognition of the powerful light in Mrs. Barnett's eyes as she had mentioned his name. But Ray took it as a cue to go on.

"_She_ really loved him, and at some point he really loved her, but he left—I still don't know why. At first she started dating every guy that knocked on her door just to stop feeling alone..." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I guess she thinks he'll come back. She still looks at his picture every night..." he chuckled as he finished.

Neela blushed slightly at the image of Ray's picture sitting in a frame next to her bed. _I know how she feels._

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

They had reached the daisies. Neela was instantly reminded of a particular line in "You've Got Mail": Meg Ryan, in a state of cold-medicine delirium, had said to the ever-charming Tom Hanks, '_Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower_?' It made her smile every time.

Neela thought this was the perfect time to let Ray in on a secret. She looked at him sheepishly and said, "I used to eat flowers when I was little."

Ray couldn't help but laugh as she faced at him with a look he had grown to love when they were roommates—it always meant she was about to divulge something that made her look completely ridiculous, but she didn't care because it was Ray...her best friend Ray.

He returned the look as he said, "You what...flowers? Neela!"

"What? I was 5! Didn't you do anything stupid when you were 5?" She dared him to say 'no.'

Ray knew he had been caught in a trap. "I ate glue."

Neela let out a snort. "Ray, that's worse than flowers!"

"I know, I know...they had to pump my stomach." He laughed in spite of himself. "Yeah it was bad..."

"Well if it makes you feel any better...I was at my friend's birthday party and we were playing outside, and I sort of...umm...I ate half their garden and her mum had to take me to the hospital." She grimaced at the memory. "Needless to say, I wasn't invited back."

This time Ray let out a laugh so forceful that he had to clutch at his stomach as tears began to form in his eyes. As if contagious, Neela began to laugh just as hard as she looked at his face twisting with utter amusement. Neither of them had laughed so hard in what seemed to be ages.

After the attack had ceased, Ray managed to smile mischievously at her and say, "That does make me feel better, thanks."

Neela responded with a look that said, '_Very funny_' as she rolled her eyes.

They walked on in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, unaware that they were thinking the exact same thing: _This is nice_. Neela was glad he had agreed to come—the outing was certainly doing him good. And Ray was enjoying himself in spite of his hesitancy to do anything these days. But there was something that still weighed on his mind more than anything else, and despite his reluctance to move away from their light-hearted banter, he had to know. Even if his mind was too muddled to know what he felt or didn't feel, what he wanted or didn't want, he needed to know what had happened.

Clearing his throat, he began with a newfound firmness in his voice. "Neela, what happened in Chicago after I left?"

"Umm...well Luka went to Croatia, and Dr. Moretti became Chief..." Ray cut her off before she could continue, aware that all she was doing was repeating everything she had told him during dinner.

"No, I mean what happened to _you_."

"I...I stayed with Abby and Joe for a while..." She didn't know what else to say. Neela was afraid of what he was asking, clearly struggling with how to respond.

Ray realized she wouldn't tell him unless he asked her outright. "Why are there scars on your stomach and on your arm?"

Neela paled. He had seen the scars on her arm, but how did he know about the one on her stomach? _It doesn't really matter how he found out, does it?_ She looked down at her shoes while trying to find an answer to his question, pushing the truth further and further into the back of her mind. "...They're nothing..." she finally said, unable to fabricate a lie to tell the one person she said she would always be completely honest with.

He should have known she would do this, but he wasn't letting her get away with it. "No, they're not." They had stopped walking and were now in the middle of the pathway, facing each other.

"Really Ray, it's not a big deal..." She shook her head emphatically, trying to make him see that pushing the point wasn't worth it. She was here for him, and what had happened to her was over and there was no point in bringing it up. Her pain had been nothing compared to his and despite her friends' insistent remarks that it wasn't true, she kept on believing that she had deserved every bit of it.

"Neela." Ray's voice was low and firm, and his eyes dared her to try to delay a truthful answer to his question any longer.

She continued looking down at her shoes. "The...the day you left, I went to an anti-war rally and...a bomb went off and everyone started running and...this guy knocked me down and I couldn't get up..."

The color drained from Ray's face as he remembered the images he had seen on the news, realizing that all the while Neela had been in the midst of the chaos. And her injuries...

"You had to get surgery?" He said quietly.

"Ray..." She began, intending to signal her refusal to tell him anything more, but was quickly cut off by the insistence in his eyes as he looked deeply into her own. "I ruptured my spleen..."

"And?" He knew she wasn't telling him everything—he could tell from the way she was fidgeting.

She let out a low sigh of frustration. "...and my lungs deflated...I had some broken ribs, and the bones in my arm shattered."


	14. Chapter 14

4

_Notes__: Hello! This is Chapter 14 of "Two Worlds"—sorry it's taken a while to update, but I've got exams and papers and projects ad infinitum. Thank you so very very much to absolutely everyone who has read/reviewed—you're all wonderful! It was so cute to hear that some of you ate flowers when you were little, too; you and Neela have something in common! This chapter is a bit short, but I truly hope I did Neela (and Ray) justice; please let me know if it seems out of tune. And there is more to come, I just don't know when._

_Disclaimer__: I do not own ER._

Ray ran his fingers through his hair in a state of utter confusion and disbelief. "Jesus, Neela..."

Suddenly looking deep into her eyes, he said imploringly, "...why didn't you tell me?"

Neela couldn't bear to see the hurt in his eyes, but a part of her soul that was buried deep within felt somewhat indignant that he didn't realize what he was asking. _You didn't want to hear from me, remember?_ She closed her eyes in an effort to shove the thought into the back of her mind, reluctant to reveal her own pain at having been pushed away so hurtfully. For the last six months, she had borne the same ache in her heart that Ray had felt at Neela's words after Michael's death, and it was only at this recognition that she understood—body and soul—what he had gone through

Mentally shaking herself Neela replied quietly, "It doesn't matter—it's over...I'm fine now." She didn't tell him how she had lain awake night after night, in too much pain to be able to actually fall asleep. She didn't tell him how she had to rely on Abby for absolutely everything the first month she was out of the hospital, unable to even get out of bed by herself. She didn't tell him how it took her lungs two full months to revert to their normal breathing capacity; she had almost suffocated to death one night when she couldn't reach her breathing apparatus from the bed. And she certainly didn't tell him that the only thought that had kept her going was a mental picture of Ray, his arms around her and the words '_It's going to be okay_' whispered in her ear.

At this last thought, a sudden change came over Neela. It was as if the wall she had erected around her heart since he had so coldly told her to leave—so as to protect it against his words—suddenly came crashing down. Questions that had pervaded her mind for the past week and a half now seemed completely irrelevant. He had waited for her and now here she was; it would be up to him to decide whether it was too late.

They had moved to the corner of the garden pathway so as to let other visitors pass; they were still facing each other. Feeling slightly faint at what she was about to do, Neela slowly sat down on the wooden bench just behind her, causing Ray to inch forward in his wheelchair. Looking deeply into his saddened green eyes, she was about to begin before Ray preempted her.

"Neela, you should've told me—I deserved to know." He didn't know why he felt so incensed that she hadn't told him; at the moment, all sense of awareness and rationality had left him, only to leave him in a state of angered confusion and uncertainty.

The words were out of Neela's mouth before she could stop them. "Would you have cared?" Neela turned her eyes to the ground, unable to look at him as he continued to stare at her incredulously. With just four simple words, Neela's hidden pain had revealed itself.

"How could you ask that question?" Ray asked in amazement, his eyes trying to catch hers as she continued to look at the cobblestones embedded into the garden pathway. _How could you think I wouldn't care? Even if only as a friend..._

The avalanche of emotions that had been building up inside of her suddenly came pouring out as she replied softly, "I wrote to you every day for 6 months...all I wanted was to know you were okay, and you..." The pool of tears that had formed in her eyes threatened to brim over at any moment.

Her entire being was immediately gripped with a need to tell him that no matter how much they were both hurting, no matter how much they had hurt each other, none of it mattered anymore. She looked up at him just as the tears slowly made their way down her face and said, "I love you, Ray...I've loved you for such a long time...I just never realized..."

Neela suddenly seemed incapable of speaking more than a few words at a time. "...I wish...so much...that I could take back the past year and a half...and do things differently...and if I could make all of your pain go away I would...I just...I'm so sorry for...everything."

A new bout of tears streamed down Neela's face. "...I know I probably don't deserve a second chance and...if your feelings have changed I understand but...I...I care about you so much, Ray...I want to be here for you..."

She had to almost force the next words out. "...even if only as a friend..." When Neela had first resolved to fight her way back into his heart, she would have vehemently admonished herself for saying something like that. But now, now that she had seen him, had looked into his eyes and felt the warmth of his smile, Neela felt that having Ray back as a friend was better than possibly not having him back at all. He had to know that she loved him more than life itself, but if he didn't feel the same way, she wanted his friendship at the very least. _Would that be enough?_ No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew it wouldn't.

"Neela...I..." The tears that had brimmed over Neela's eyes seemed to have found their way into Ray's; the first time Neela had cried in front of him, the same thing had happened and continued to happen every time after that—whenever Neela cried, tears automatically prickled in Ray's eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop them.

He wished he had a better answer, but at the moment his head felt like it was going explode with everything that he had taken in. He was so utterly confused that he hadn't even processed half the things that were floating in his mind. "...I don't...I need to think..."

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Ray had refused Neela's offer to walk him home. He was now parked firmly on the front porch—and had been for the past hour—as he gazed into the bright blue sky and found nothing to untangle the mess of emotions that were threatening to strangle him. He was trying to sort through them, he really was, but the only words that kept getting through were '_I don't know_.' The part of him that had held on to the bitterness and anger were raging at her, infuriated that she could show up and ask to be part of his life again after having crushed it to pieces. The part of him that had held that guitar pick in his hands and felt like he could be somebody after reading her words thought that maybe, just maybe, she could help him through this. And the part of him that had laughed with her in the warmth of the sun urged him to dig deeper within himself than he was willing to look.

_Do I still love her?_ He just didn't know.

Mrs. Barnett had arrived home from the grocery store before Ray, and she now proceeded to walk out onto the porch with a glass of lemonade for her and her son, taking a seat beside him.

"So how was the garden?" She enquired lightly as she handed him the glass.

"...uh...good..." He replied, unable to look at his mother as he did so.

"Did you get to see the daisies?" Mrs. Barnett said playfully.

Ray suddenly turned to look at her. "What?"

"The daisies—your father proposed to me on the bench in front of the daisies."


	15. Chapter 15

4

_Notes__: Hi! This is Chapter 15 of "Two Worlds." This has been swirling around my head for the past week and I felt like I couldn't really study for my French exam until I wrote it, so here it is! Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed and provided helpful feedback on this story—I am so immensely grateful that I can't say thank you enough. As for the story, this was meant to be the last chapter as originally planned. I have some ideas for its continuation but I'm slightly scared that I'll mess it up and ruin the story. If you'd like, I'll continue, but please don't hesitate to tell me if you think it's going down the wrong road. (Alright, I'll stop here before my incessant rambling takes up half the page...)_

_Disclaimer__: I do not own ER or its characters._

Ray felt like he had been hit by a brick, and all it had taken was the word 'daisies.' The moment the word had left his mother's mouth, Ray's mind immediately presented him with a single image so real it was as if he was gazing at her in front of him. It was a picture of Neela, and she was laughing. It was the kind of laugh that he had seen many times ages ago, but this particular one, the one in front of him, did something to his soul that nothing for the past six months had done—it freed him from himself, from his own confusion and misconceptions, and it was at this exact moment that it truly hit him.

Neela had almost died.

Suddenly the picture in front of his eyes turned into a frenzy of doctors and surgeons bustling around her, wires and machines hooked up to her fragile and tiny body as she struggled to stay alive. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he took it all in, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge. And as soon as the sensation passed, a feeling of immense sadness and guilt served to take its place. _If I hadn't been so damn wrapped up in myself_, he thought. She had written to him despite her difficulties, and he had been too bitter and angry to think that maybe she was struggling to get by just as much as he was. But while all of this passed through his mind in a split second, these thoughts were not what had caused the excruciatingly painful vision before his eyes. It was that her physical injuries were not the cause of all her pain—he had been. Neela hadn't told him about what happened because that wasn't what was hurting her; it was almost as if the injuries she had sustained didn't matter to her. In the attempt to forget her, his vengeful heart had caused her the type of agony that she had caused him not so long ago, and this made him want to scream at himself. She had hurt him, yes, but he had let his anger stand in the face of all his other emotions; sympathy and concern had been buried in a place deep within his soul, and it wasn't until now that they had dared to bare themselves to him. And all at once every sensation, every aspect of his personality he had been harboring within the fortress of his soul seemed to slowly and gingerly reveal itself—humor...optimism...love. _Do I still love her? Absolutely_.

All the tears that had fallen from her eyes and onto her letters now seemed to make perfect sense.And all the tears that had fallen from his now did too.

_Daisies_. "Mom, I'm uh...gonna go back to the garden for a while. I'll be back before dinner," Ray said as he wheeled himself down the porch ramp and toward the street, leaving Mrs. Barnett to wonder if it had been something she said.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

_I hope she's still here_, Ray thought to himself as he looked down the cobblestone pathway in front of him. It had only been about an hour since he had left but already the garden looked empty and lifeless. Traveling down the walk and looking left and right, Ray finally spotted her.

Neela was sitting in the same spot he had left her—on the antique wooden bench, right in front of the daisies. She was gazing at the simple flowers in front of her, the tears having dried not more than a moment ago as she wondered how long she'd been sitting there, letting the sorrow slowly overtake her once more.

"Hey," Ray said gently as he finally reached her.

She abruptly lifted her gaze at the sound of his voice, a tiny fleck of hope registering in her heart only to mix with a sudden bout of fear. "Hey," she replied with a small but cautious smile.

After an awkwardly long pause, Ray began. "Listen, Neela..." He had started right at the moment Neela opened her mouth to say, "Ray, I..." Taking a deep breath and steadying herself for what was to come, Neela said, "You go first."

Ray hadn't had time to worry about what exactly he was going to say, but now that he was there in front of her, it was more difficult than ever. "Neela, when you...If I had known..."

He took a deep breath and tried again, this time gathering the courage to actually look at her as he spoke. "Neela, I'm sorry..."

Neela's chin began to tremble as the tears that had dried were reawakened. _He doesn't want me here_, she thought in anguish. _He's made his decision and now he's apologizing to me for it_. She broke contact with his eyes and turned her face toward the stoned floor as she quietly said, "I understand" before he could finish the sentence he had started with such trouble.

"No, you don't...Neela, if something had happened to you, I would've never forgiven myself." There was such an insistence in his voice that Neela felt her face rise to meet his gaze.

With a slight chuckle and a drop in his gaze so that he was now staring at his hands in his lap, Ray continued. "You know, I...I really thought I could forget about you; I thought I could come to Louisiana and pretend to be someone else..."

"...but no matter how hard I tried, you were always...here...I couldn't pretend to be someone else because I didn't know _how_ to be someone else...Chicago made me who I am and these past few months I've lost that—I've lost myself."

He looked up to find Neela looking at him with an intensity that could only be described as concern, sorrow, hope, and fear all rolled into one.

"You reminded me today. For the first time since...what happened...I felt like...me...again." Holding her gaze, he said softly, "I still care about you, Neela."

The tears that had surged in Neela's eyes now rolled gently down her cheeks as she looked at him and felt her heart melt all over again.

"I know we've both...made mistakes but..." he couldn't get the words out and resigned to start again. "Listen, Neela, I was hoping maybe we could take this kind of slowly." Ray couldn't help but feel that they were doing things backwards, but he knew deep within his heart that if they were going to get through this it would take some real work on both sides, and the only way they could hope to reach that point where they were best friends and lovers all at once was by doing just that—taking things slowly. "I just...I don't know if I'm ready for...this...yet." He didn't want to say he 'needed time'—there were too many bad memories behind those words and for Ray, this was about the future, not the ghosts of the past. The first step had been realizing that he still loved her more than anything. But there were things that needed to be straightened out—not necessarily between them, but things he needed to straighten out within himself.

Neela had wanted to reach for his hands as he sat there and poured his soul out to her, but at his last words, she glued them to the spot in her lap. But she wasn't saddened or distraught—she was hopeful. With a smile she replied, "I'll wait." _As long as it takes_, she thought, _I'll be here_.

Ray smiled back and felt a wave of something emerge in his heart that he had feared would never come. It was as if a surge of fresh air had brushed his cheek, smelling of little white flowers and English tea. All at once, he recognized what it was and let the feeling fill the very corners of his heart—Neela loved him. And even though they weren't together just yet, Ray knew that it would be this feeling and this feeling alone that would give him the strength and resilience he needed to piece his life together again.


	16. Epilogue

5

_Notes__: Hi! This is the Epilogue to Two Worlds, and I am absolutely terribly sorry for having taken so long to write it. What with graduation and masses of relatives coming to visit one after the other, I found no time to do anything whatsoever. And lo and behold now that all that's over, I'm sick! So despite the packing that I have to do and the bleary-eyed, coughing mess that I've become, here is the final chapter to a story that I've very much enjoyed writing. Thank you a thousand times over to all of you who have read and reviewed this story—it really does mean the world to me and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I sincerely hope you like this chapter._

_Disclaimer__: I, unfortunately, do not own ER._

With his arm wrapped gently around her waist, Ray couldn't help but feel what a magnificently beautiful day it was to be strolling along on a calm summer day with the woman he loved so perfectly in sync with his own steps. Today the birds seemed to be singing just a little bit louder and the sun seemed to be shining just a little bit brighter, as the clouds parted to reveal a majestically blue sky that couldn't possibly be tainted. He was in heaven.

Beside him, Neela was in a similarly warm but less carefree frame of mind as she snuggled into his side. "Ray, are you sure your Mum didn't want to come with us to the garden?" She was looking at him with those furrowed eyebrows that meant she didn't really believe what he'd just told her, even if she knew it was the truth.

He looked down at her and smiled a rather handsome, mischievous smile that hit Neela like an arrow every time. "Yes, I'm sure." Then, as if like a schoolboy hiding a secret, he said, "She gave us her blessings before we left" and quickly turned away before Neela could catch the slow grin that was spreading across his lips. Excitement flitted through his heart as he thought about what he was about to do.

Before Neela had time to thoroughly analyze his words, she realized that they had reached the entrance to the garden and were gently being ushered in with the mass of other visitors that had decided today was a day for flowers. As she closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of what could only be described as paradise, all other thoughts left her mind until the only sensation remaining within her was the touch of Ray's skin against hers, their hands entwined as if afraid of losing each other on the way down to earth. Ray's beaming face welcomed her as she opened her eyes.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He said, recognizing the familiar glint in her face. A gentle kiss on the cheek was all the answer he had been looking for.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

It seemed as if an entire lifetime had passed since the last time they had walked down this stony pathway, their minds barricaded within walls of their own construction. The two worlds they had inhabited seemed disharmonious and incompatible, and it had taken courage to rise up out of the lie they had created and reach a place where the mere thought of love and forgiveness was not a sin.

It had taken exactly six months for Ray's fear and inhibition to completely dissolve itself.

A mere two days after Ray and Neela's talk in the garden, Ray's doctor had called to tell him that the prosthetics he had been fitted for were ready. Just three months of regular physical therapy and he would be walking proudly in his new set of legs, they had said. But despite this bit of news, Ray couldn't help but feel that once Neela left for Chicago, he would be alone once again to face the demons that he had so recently seemed to shun away. Unbeknownst to him, Neela was facing the same dilemma; it was as if the difficulties of the past year loomed over the both of them as a reminder of what could happen if they weren't careful—what could happen if they left each other to face a world that had become all too cruel. So she stayed.

Lingering upon the words Abby had spoken to her about her residency, Neela made a decision: if staying here meant losing a year of her residency, so be it. Nothing seemed to matter to her anymore; nothing seemed to be of any importance whatsoever except the man who was now lifting himself gently out of his wheelchair and onto the couch to sit next to her. And it was with this sense of dignity and resolution that Neela called Dubenko to tell him that she wouldn't be back—at least not for now.

The three months she spent in Baton Rouge were some of the most heartbreaking, intense days of her life. Through every agonizing step that Ray took, through every soul-shattering howl of pain he cried, Neela stood next to him, at times able to do nothing but feel the tears stream down her cheek just in time with Ray's—her tears of sorrow and sympathy, his tears of pain and humiliation.

But despite these many tortuous routines, she and Ray had spent some of their most meaningful moments right here, in this house that he still couldn't call 'home.' One night Neela and Mrs. Barnett had returned from grocery shopping to find that Ray—in a fit of his former self—had cooked them dinner. Mouth-watering dishes of fettuccine alfredo topped with elegant garnishes and white wine adorned the table, only to be rounded out with three spoons thrust into the communal bucket of ice cream. Needless to say, it had been a lovely evening.

And in between the mass of horror movies and chick flicks, Sunday brunches and midnight snacks, Ray felt a warmth within his soul that he could find no words for. He had someone to make grilled cheese sandwiches with, someone to fight over which Beatles song is the best with. Perhaps most importantly, he found someone to share the porch with, share the stars with, and it was this more than anything that gave him the strength to begin each day with the determination he needed to take that extra step. Nights of falling asleep on the couch together made him recognize that he had found his best friend once again, and he was never going to let her go.

Back in Chicago, it had come time for Morris and Hope's wedding. And despite all the excited preparations of the bride and the almost hysterical shouts of the groom, the ER felt cold—it was as if the lifeblood of the hospital had been ripped out only to be replaced by half-dead words of congratulations. With both Ray and Neela gone, and Luka in Croatia, the remaining ER staff did its best to feel the hope and joy that filled their two colleagues' hearts on the happiest day of their lives; but no matter how hard they tried, thoughts of those far away seemed to be ever present. It just wasn't the same.

Three months passed in a blur. The day Ray walked out of those hospital doors with a newfound step in his stride, it was Neela's eyes he sought. And as they sat on the porch that night, Neela—as if in response and knowing the importance of time—asked him the one question she had been dying to ask him all along. "Will you come to Chicago with me?"

And so they had moved back to the Chicago that they both loved for its sense of home and hated for its mass of memories. Abby's old apartment, which Neela was still staying in, had ramps and seemed to be perfectly suited for the little world she and Ray had planned to create.

It had been hard, at first, to overcome the emotions that seemed to infiltrate their souls—Neela's hopelessness and Ray's embarrassment and anger seemed to get the better of them. It had begun the first day, as a matter of fact. As Ray continued to watch Neela move box after box of his up the wooden staircase, he couldn't help but shrink further and further into the wall until finally he walked into his room and quietly closed the door. He was the _guy_, he was supposed to be moving heavy boxes, rearranging furniture, taking care of her...and just as he realized what he was doing to himself, he stopped. Ray wasn't going to shut himself off again only to wither away in the corner of a room, even if it was in Chicago rather than Baton Rouge. And no sooner had he opened the door than Neela had engulfed him in a hug that said, _I love you—we'll take care of each other_. _Nothing else matters._

Within a week they had gone to see the new ER Chief and—thanks to Ray's mostly stellar performance before leaving, as well as resounding recommendations from the entire staff—found Ray a spot as a third-year resident. As for Neela, she wasn't so lucky. Dubenko hadn't been kidding when he said surgery had been swamped with residents and now Neela found herself effectively shut out of her former spot. But all hope was not lost. Surgery's overflow had deprived the ER of badly needed medical personnel, and Neela was just the kind of 'personnel' they needed—at least until next year when she could rightfully fight for her position once again. But until then, she would be a third-year resident just like Ray, working the mad hours she almost felt she kind of missed, coming home to horror movies and stir fry. Until now Neela hadn't fully appreciated everything that she and Ray had been through, but at the exact moment she found out that they would be reliving an entire year of their lives as if to erase the one that had done so much damage, Neela couldn't help but think that they really were in this together.

As the days went by and the winds got colder, Ray found himself gravitating closer and closer to Neela. Heeding his words from that day in the garden, Neela had stopped herself from doing anything that she knew he wasn't ready for; perhaps an innocent kiss on the cheek, or an arm around his waist while they were on the couch, but nothing more. So when Ray looked at her with that _look_ in his eyes, his hand moving to brush away the stray strand of hair that so stubbornly stood in his path, she couldn't help but let out a little gasp of surprise and excitement. Suddenly their separate rooms and their careful attitude seemed utterly ridiculous—he loved her after all—and all pretense and manner of precaution was left aside, as the only thought that filled Ray's mind was, _I wish it hadn't taken me so long_. Yet despite this air of overwhelming freedom that now filled them both, they couldn't help but think that everything they had been through was necessary; it was necessary because it would allow them to fully appreciate all that they had ahead of them, all that they were headed towards.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

It was exactly one year later that Ray and Neela had decided to take a trip to Baton Rouge, and it was in that wondrous botanical garden that had formed such an integral part of their story that they now found themselves.

"So Neela, are you up for some dessert? Cause there's a bunch of tulips up ahead that I'm sure no one will miss..."

Neela looked at him with narrowed eyes and a creeping smile on her face as he chuckled next to her. Ever since she had told him about her kindergarten-age flower-eating habits, she knew she'd never hear the end of it. Not that she really _wanted_ to hear the end of it.

"I've got a better idea—why don't we go to the craft store for dessert? They have so many types of glue you'll feel like you're in a candy store!" She couldn't help herself.

"Alright, alright, very funny," Ray replied with a wry smile and a look that revealed how much he was enjoying this.

"Ray, look. We're at the daisies," Neela said lovingly; it was You've Got Mail and Ray Barnett all crammed together in a little white flower, she thought. Their good-natured banter had taken his mind completely off of the task he had ahead of him, and now that his mind was back on track, he couldn't help but feel slightly nervous.

"Uh...why don't we sit on the bench for a while?" He said hesitantly. Ray sat down on the bench overlooking the daisies and placed his arm gently around Neela's shoulders as she sat down next to him. They sat like this for a good fifteen minutes before Ray felt like he'd burst if he didn't say it now. And so it was at this precise moment, with Neela's head so gingerly sitting on his shoulder, that he managed to take the little black box out of the pocket of his jacket and whisper her name almost seductively into her ear. Raising her head and looking straight into his face, Neela felt inexplicable pools of tears emerge in her eyes.

Ray opened the box to reveal the most beautiful, elegantly simple ring Neela had ever laid eyes on. There was absolutely no need for words—the depth reflected in their eyes said more than anything they could hope to express otherwise, and it was at this realization that Ray took the ring out of its box and placed it tenderly onto Neela's finger. As he did so, a tiny speck of a tear made its way down his face just in tune with Neela's, and with a sheepish grin he smiled a beaming smile that reflected the light shining within. And as his lips gently touched hers, all Ray and Neela could think was, _The world is nothing less than perfect._ That was the absolute truth.


End file.
